Campaign Kandahar
by ShaViva
Summary: World events propel Captain Evan Lorne into war in a place far removed from home. What he asks of himself, what he's willing to endure while there becomes the cornerstone of his future career. Pure Lorne, AU background story, following on from Red Flag.
1. And the world changes

**Campaign Kandahar**

Author: ShaViva

Rating: T

Content Warning: Mild swearing, some violence and war themes

Season: This is set after Red Flag, starting from November 2001 ... so, about season 6 of SG1, roughly.

Summary: World events propel Captain Evan Lorne to a place and a war far removed from home, creating the cornerstone of his future career. Again, pure Lorne, AU background series.

Classifications: Family, friendship, adventure

Pairings: None

Spoilers for: None

Acknowledgements: The UK production _Fighter Pilot: Afghanistan_, a six part documentary program I watched to get a feel for a day in the life of a fighter pilot during the conflict. That was set at Kandahar airfield a few years too late and they fly harriers not F-16s but it's close enough! It was certainly useful for the parts of this I set in Kandahar and its surrounds. Wikipedia for most of the other information, in particular about fighter wings and squadrons of the U.S. air force involved in Operation Enduring Freedom - I searched high and low to come up with the details of a wing that went to the conflict early AND flew F-16's and eventually found some good details there and at globalsecurity dot org; kdab dot afcent dot af dot mil; and dutchaviationsupport dot eu. I have also relied on Wikipedia as well as the michigandaily online archives for snippets of actual events that occur in Afghanistan when this story takes place.

Disclaimer: The Stargate characters, storylines, etc aren't mine. I am unfortunately not associated in any way with the creators, owners, or producers of Stargate or any of its media franchises – if I was Lorne would have been in A LOT more episodes. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, equipment, etc are the property of whoever owns them. The original characters and plot and anything else I made up are the property of me, the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

Copyright (c) 2010 ShaViva

* * *

**Authors Note:**

In filling in some of the remaining blanks of Lorne's background in this story I've touched on actual world events – not unexpected but I just wanted to say up front that I have the highest respect for the military and their efforts as well as real compassion for those who've suffered loss due to those world events. No trivialisation, disrespect or offense is intended.

Also, you'll see when you start reading this that the setting is totally unfamiliar to anything I could personally know about. Research can only get you so far and then it's up to me as the writer to fill in the gaps ... translation, make things up! If there are inaccuracies in those gaps then we'll all just have to live with them because I've done the best I can to make this realistic. This is all written too - just the usual editing required as I post each chapter.

And now, on with the story ... I hope you enjoy!

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**Chapter 1: And the world changes**

_Early November 2001_

He'd been there a month and was already at the point where he felt like he'd never been anywhere else.

Al Udeid Air Base in Qatar. The Persian Gulf, an hour's flight at high speed from the heart of Afghanistan.

It was as sharp a contrast to familiar conditions as you could imagine. Hot days heading upwards to 100 degrees even so late in the year. Days that felt much hotter because of the lack of humidity followed by nights where the temperatures dropped sharply enough to have you shivering. And dust ... so bad that it hindered the use of anything electronic and increased tenfold the maintenance load on the ground crews.

The air quality on the base was terrible, because it was so dry and dusty and every movement kicked up a fresh wave of tiny particles – sand and dirt that got into _everything_. The base was active – something was going on 24/7 – so things never got a chance to settle.

The contrast was there in the landscape too ... once you headed towards the war zones near the Helmand Province and Kandahar City it was just so damn flat it felt unnatural, like God had taken a large plank to the area and smoothed out all the peaks and troughs. But surrounding that were mountain ranges large enough to be present in your line of sight no matter where you were heading.

How Lorne had gotten from his almost cushy posting at Nellis AFB to where he was now was as interesting as it was disheartening to a soul that believed in peace enough to pick up arms in defence of it.

It was an inescapable fact that the world was a different place to what it had been prior to September 11. He'd been at Nellis that day, 2500 miles away from the site of the worst terrorist attacks on civilians in American History. Too far away to do anything but look on, immobile and useless despite the power his squadron of F-16 fighting falcons represented. There had been no fighting for the air force that day - they'd been taken by surprise, forces already engaged elsewhere in the world, spread too thin and too removed to do anything until it was already too late. That grated, as it was meant to he thought - that the U.S. military had so little impact, that civilians had suffered while they'd been safe at their bases around the world.

Evan had only finished his Masters degree the month before. Since his first Red Flag, his first disastrous foray into romantic love, he'd focussed on study and work to the exclusion of everything else. It had been awkward at first but Nellis was big enough that if you really didn't want to see someone you didn't have to. Tanya had made it easy for him by avoiding him just as much as he avoided her. And eventually he'd gotten over it - that rush of pain and disappointment he got whenever he thought about the 'could have been's. Maybe he wasn't entirely over her but he'd put it behind him and reminded himself of what was really important. The air force; serving his country; work that _meant_ something ... and flying, his first and enduring love. The plan had been to stay at Nellis, get done with his degree as quickly as he could and then move on again – playing at war had lost its appeal even before the events on September 11.

He'd stuck to that, putting in for a transfer as soon as his confirmation of completion had come through. The only thing he'd changed post the attacks was where he'd requested to go. Lorne didn't want to sit back and let someone else fight ... he wanted to be there, do what he could to take away _any_ chance that it could happen again. To do that he needed to be on a fighting wing likely to get shipped out to assist in Operation Enduring Freedom.

He'd chosen the 366th fighter wing out of Mountain Home AFB in Idaho and luckily they'd accepted his request for a posting without apparent comment. There'd been a couple of days in the middle after he'd packed his stuff and shipped some non essentials back to his Mom, where he'd jumped on a plane for his new posting, via Cold Lake.

"You're going to Afghanistan?" Elaine was as serious as Evan had ever seen her – she knew what September 11 meant for the men she loved. Drew wasn't even scheduled to ship out to the conflict but Evan could see the worry in her eyes – the battle between wanting to keep her husband safe and close to home and the pride of knowing he wouldn't sit back, that something in him needed to defend those who couldn't defend themselves, that needed to make the world a better place that it felt right then.

"Soon," he admitted, settling back on the couch in her living room. Drew was still at work and Lorne welcomed the chance to speak to his sister alone.

"You volunteered."

It wasn't a question but Evan answered it anyway. "Yeah," he said unapologetically. 'I had to."

"Did you?" Elaine asked blandly.

"It's no different being posted anywhere," Evan felt almost defensive. Not that he thought he had any reason to be, but his sister's disapproval wasn't something he liked experiencing under any circumstances.

"We both know that's not true," Elaine returned, pinning him with a pointed look.

"Anywhere during a conflict," Evan corrected himself. He paused, leaning forward earnestly. "I'll be fine Lainee ... and you know I'm always careful."

"I know," Elaine forced a smile as she put a hand over his. "I'm glad you got to visit before you ship out."

"Me too." Evan grinned. "I still can't believe sometimes that you've grown up and have your own house to run. Are you sure you should be this mature?"

"What, you mean more mature than you?" Elaine retorted, slipping easily back into that sibling ribbing they'd mastered over years of growing up together.

"I'm mature ... enough," Evan laughed when she almost stamped her foot in frustration.

"You'll be mature enough when you settle down," she said, her face falling as soon as she realised that wasn't as sensitive as it could have been. "I'm sorry Evan," she said apologetically.

"What for?" he shot back. "Because of Tanya? I got over that a long time ago Sis ... all water under the bridge now."

Elaine didn't look like she believed him fully but she let the matter drop, the two settling in to talk about daily life in Cold Lake and what she'd been doing to fill her time. Evan smiled to hear her enthusiasm about volunteering through some of the projects run from Cold Lake, in between pursuing more art studies via correspondence.

It was just what he needed ... Evan would have done just about anything required to get those days with Elaine and Drew. All he'd wanted was to enjoy being with his family, to relax and soak up enough of that feeling of belonging to something bigger than himself while he could. To remind himself on a personal level what it was they were fighting for. Leaving was always a wrench, this time more than before because he really didn't know how long he'd be away, how long it would be before he saw his family again.

Repeating the same process with his Mom the next day didn't help but he couldn't have left without see her. They'd come a long way since Elaine's wedding in understanding the role the military played in their past, present and future. Grace Lorne had welcomed the time he got to spend with her and sent him off with a hug and an order that he at least write to her when he could. Thinking back to that time now Evan still smiled, although it was edged with regret that the war in Afghanistan was necessary at all.

That had only been the beginning of his journey to where he was now. Once at Mountain Home AFB they'd assigned Lorne to the 389th Fighter Squadron, already slated for deployment to Qatar six weeks from his arrival.

All Evan had to do was complete a refresher course in survival training and he'd be cleared to go. That sounded easy – it wasn't anything he hadn't already done before – but in practice, knowing they were teaching you things to cover situations that might actually occur only weeks and a whole world away made it a lot harder. He'd breezed through weapons handling, marksmanship, and combat first aid as well as all the tests of physical fitness and capability. It was all the extra things – nuclear, biological and chemical knowledge - they thought he might need that had Evan cringing, internally anyway.

The worst of all had been the chemical warfare suit test. They'd had to gear up in the full kit, protective suit and gas mask and then voluntarily head into a gas chamber that was going to be full of CS gas. 2-chlorobenzalmalononitrile, also known as tear gas was non lethal but exposure could still make you pretty sick and miserable. During the fifteen minutes he'd been in there Evan had to do a series of tasks – decontaminating his suit and changing the air filter on his mask had been easy but drinking some water when he'd been wearing a sealed and air tight mask turned out to be more than a little difficult. The last part, decontaminating his face, had capped off the unpleasant experience. For that you had to deliberately expose your entire head, all without breathing or opening your eyes, and then put the mask back on and purge your aspirator before you could take a few breaths and open your eyes again. No matter how careful you were the gas had touched your face – coupled with the natural moisture of skin the effects were unavoidable. A minuscule portion of gas got into his eyes and had them stinging and streaming with tears. Thankfully the burning sensation hadn't lasted and he'd come away thinking it really hadn't been that bad – not that he'd be lining up to repeat the performance.

They'd spent a lot of time on roadside bombs and IED's too – improvised explosive devices the Taliban were notorious for making use of – and on learning tactics to deal with an ambush. One of the biggest hazards of Afghanistan was its land mines – it was one of the most heavily mined countries in the world. The mines were well hidden, small but still capable of causing considerable damage. Various offenders over the history of the country had dropped them from the air and they just sat on the ground until someone stepped on them. The ones most commonly used were made out of plastic so they were hard to detect with a metal detector and worst yet, lasted for a very long time. Luckily Lorne didn't need to know as much as the bomb disposal guys, just enough to know what to do if he had to walk through one of them.

Training had flown by and all too soon Evan's squad was shipping out. The journey to Qatar was a long one and the preparations were rigorous. Getting together the things it was mandatory you take and the things the powers that be thought you should take distracting enough to almost take your mind off where you were going. There were the usual things - ten copies of his orders plus the ones he'd mailed Elaine and his Mom, although why he needed ten was a mystery only administration could answer; a whole bunch of other paper work for medical, immunisation records, weapons qualifications, security clearance and his airman's manual; as well as uniforms and linens and all the other personal stuff you needed to be so far away from home and any kind of convenience store. Each place also had its extra requirements. For the Middle East they stood out like a sore thumb, or an advert that said 'this is a harsh place to live'. Dust goggles, Malaria pills year round, desert boots, extra pairs of sunglasses and a Gortex cold weather jacket. Hot and dusty, cold too and with the threat of illness just around the corner - Lorne was pretty sure they didn't put that in the travel brochures.

The things you weren't allowed to bring were just as interesting. No civilian PT gear at all - when you weren't in UOD - uniform of the day, ABU's or desert flight dress uniform you wore the standard USAF physical training uniforms. No alcoholic beverages or non prescription drugs either. You could bring electronics but it was discouraged because chances were the dust would get into them and render them useless not long after you arrived, and for sure the military wouldn't be replacing them.

The U.S. had taken over the domestic airport in Qatar when they'd arrived a couple of months before. Although they didn't have a formal agreement with the country's government there hadn't been an official protest either. Afghanistan wasn't that far away ... having the U.S. air force living on your doorstep was probably seen as a _good_ thing. They had the use of the main buildings and had erected a series of tents for housing troops. There were concrete barriers that had been brought in to protect them from attacks on foot, along with cameras and observation towers manned at all times. The 389th squardron was the only fighter squadron stationed there but not the only aircraft - they had the full range required to drop supplies into Afghanistan, conduct surveillance, provide defensive support - and all the troops needed to maintain them. Lorne hadn't done a head count but he'd guess there were about a thousand personnel on the ground, a number that seemed to be growing every day.

"Lorne."

Evan turned from where he'd been watching the ground crew doing maintenance on one of the planes to see one of his squad mates heading towards him. It was funny how the world worked ... he'd got himself on the 389th squadron with the grim purpose of doing his bit for the War on Terrorism and the first person he'd seen when he got to Mountain Home AFB had been Captain Piper Jones. It happened that way sometimes - some people you met at training and then never saw again, others turned up as though it had been planned all along. Seeing Piper again was like that. Turns out she'd felt the same way he had about actively getting involved in the U.S.'s efforts in Afghanistan. Mountain Home had a contingent of marine pilots stationed there and the continuing spirit of cooperation between the services had made it almost a formality for her to get a seat on Lorne's wing before it shipped out.

"Hey," he smiled as she stopped, standing in the thin patch of shade he was making.

"The new guy's here," Piper announced.

"Okay," Lorne got up and the two fell into step together. He'd agreed to brief their newest arrival because he'd be serving with their wing since the previous holder of that place had been sent home early with of all things appendicitis.

"Lieutenant, this is our wing leader, Captain Evan Lorne," Piper made the introductions before nodding and leaving Evan to it.

"Sir," a young man, tall and thin, stood to attention as soon as Lorne entered the orientation room.

"At ease Lieutenant," Evan said easily, looking at him curiously.

"First Lieutenant Scott Castles reporting for duty Sir," the new arrival said, relaxing only slightly.

"Welcome to Al Udeid Lieutenant," Lorne said, internally amused at the seriousness displayed. How long had this guy been out of flight school? His manner along with the strictly regulation cut of his dark hair and the starched perfection of his uniform had Evan placing him at the low end of the scale on real world experience. That was the thing about war – it graduated men and women into the action much younger than they otherwise would have, gave them the chance to fly missions they might never see during peace time.

"Thank you Sir," Lieutenant Castle replied.

"I'll give you a tour of the base in a minute, show you where everything is," Lorne began. "But before we do that there are a few things to say. You'll get a comprehensive briefing from the base Commander on the operational and support facets of our mission. This is more of an 'in the know' briefing, okay."

"Yes Sir," Castle nodded, brown eyes intent and earnest.

"Right ... well first up, keep your sleeves down at all times," Lorne said. "Wouldn't want to give those mosquitoes a bare skin invitation to come and dine on you. Malaria is a year round threat here." He watched impassively as the younger man hastily rolled his sleeves back down and buttoned them up. "The temperature drops rapidly after dark so make sure you keep your cold weather gear up to scratch. General Order Number 1 is enforced here, so no alcoholic beverages, no non prescription drugs and no entering the sleeping quarters of the opposite gender."

"No Sir," Castle looked faintly embarrassed at that last part and Lorne had to repress the urge to grin. Had he ever been that young and eager to impress?

"It might seem like we're a long way from the battle zone," Lorne continued, "but make no mistake, this is a live combat base. Vigilance and discipline at all times Lieutenant."

Castle nodded, doing his best not to look nervous. It was understandable – a first posting to somewhere with the stakes so high should be nerve wracking, otherwise you weren't taking it seriously enough.

"Okay, let's take that tour," Lorne motioned for the younger man to precede him outside. As they walked he pointed out the key points of interest ... "Admin – finances, supply requests, stuff like that. They'll take your letters home and get them out with the supply plane. Getting something to the States takes I don't know how long," Evan added. "I haven't gotten anything back from home yet."

"How long have you been here Sir?" Castle asked, adding quickly before Lorne could answer "if it's okay to ask Sir."

"A month," Lorne said easily. "We've had the run of Al Udeid since October – the facilities are a bit primitive right now but slowly over time the air expeditionary wing is creating some infrastructure and making everything a little more permanent." Continuing with his tour he pointed to his right. "That's the Mess building – used to be the airport cafeteria. Food is pretty much rations and MREs right now with a little fresh stuff when we can get it in. Laundry's next door – it's do it yourself for the time being until we get a few more base support staff posted here. And over there are all the accommodation tents."

They walked the main areas and then returned back to the orientation building. "Any questions?" Lorne asked.

"When can I get out there and flying Sir?" Castles predictably returned.

"All in good time Lieutenant," Lorne replied. "Since there're only the four F-16 pilots so far we run missions in pairs. Two in the air and two to cover things here just in case we get an emergency request for ground support. Captain Jones and I have the next scheduled mission tonight. You and Lieutenant Pearce will be flying tomorrow's mission, if there is one. After that I'll be switching the two man teams around to suit the missions." Castles nodded, his expression still that awkward mix of enthusiasm and nerves.

"Go find your bunk," Lorne concluded. "The base commander will talk to you this afternoon."

"Thanks for the briefing Sir," Castles said.

"No problem," Evan grinned, "and welcome to the three eight nine."

**Authors Note:**

I have no idea whether it's plausible that Piper could end up on the same wing as Lorne since he's airforce and she's marine corps ... and I don't really care! I liked writing her in Red Flag and feel I've maxed everyone out on all the OC's I've had to create for this series - it was nice to be able to keep one of them in place of creating yet another new face. Also this is a pretty heavy chapter on catching up with Lorne since Red Flag as well as setting up for the rest of the story - hope it's still interesting!


	2. A day in the life

**Chapter 2: A day in the life**

_Late November 2001_

"You're early," Lorne commented when Piper came to find him half an hour before their next mission briefing was due to start. For this one he'd decided he and Piper would fly together, leaving his less experienced pilots on base to hopefully spend an uneventful night. The other two planes would still be held in readiness, just in case further close air support was called for while Lorne and Piper were away from the base.

"I know," Piper shrugged. "I thought we might as well start now - it's not like there's much else to do around here."

"True," Lorne agreed. Nodding towards the building where the pilot's briefing room was located he smiled. "Come on then ... since you're so keen."

Evan admitted to himself that he was actually looking forward to their mission as well. Al Udeid was far enough from the combat zone, and on the other side of the gulf, so they didn't see a lot of action. Forward Operating Base Rhino, known as Camp Rhino, on the other hand was right in the thick of it, located in the Registan Desert 100 nautical miles southwest of Kandahar. That was particularly important because Kandahar Airport was where the Taliban had taken refuge and still held a strong position.

"Once we land at Camp Rhino we'll refuel," Lorne began the briefing, "talk to our forward air controllers at the base and on the ground." The forward air controllers were the guys who went out with the soldiers right into the thick of the battle zone so they'd be on site, ready to call in air support when it was needed.

Calling up a map of the region around Kandahar Evan pointed to a spot about 50 miles away, at the base of mountain ranges that extended over a large portion of the country. "Our ground troops are holed up here ... they're not under attack right now but there are signs the Taliban are moving units to intercept them. We need to discourage that, hence tonight's show of force."

"Two F-16's flying low should get the message across," Piper agreed. "Don't mess with us."

"Let's hope so. From what I can gather this is leading up to us making a push to take Kandahar," Evan told her intently. "We do that, drive them away from their spiritual home, and it'll seriously weaken them, both internally and with the locals."

Continuing the briefing, Lorne covered the basics - where he and Piper needed to be, fuel management, weather, angle of approach and payload in case things got ugly. Every mission was a life and death undertaking, even though they might not actually be within sight of the enemy until those few moments when they dropped their planes inside the battle zone. Every eventuality had to be considered and planned for because they were a prime target for the Taliban's anti aircraft surface to air weapons. That's why they were doing the mission at night – it was too risky to fly out from Camp Rhino during the day. War wasn't a nine to five occupation in any case – often after dark was when things really kicked into action.

"Okay," Evan concluded the briefing, leading the way out to where they kept the logs.

Paperwork didn't disappear just because they were in a warzone. They still had to sign out their jets before each mission – still had to check the maintenance records, the software installed, note any limitations listed, and confirm that the weapons codes were right. Each plane had its own folder, filled with the pages that detailed its mission history. You couldn't get attached to any one jet because it could be replaced at a moments notice with another, but secretly Lorne did think each plane had a 'personality'. The one he was taking out that night was his preferred ride, for no real reason other than that it felt like they belonged, like he had a special affinity for it. He wasn't superstitious but if something gave you an edge, even if it was just a mental one, then you might as well go with it.

"Ready," Evan finished his checks and signed his name on the night's mission sheet before turning to see that Piper was almost done too.

"I'm good to go," she said, replacing her folder in its slot.

The planes were kept some distance from the pilots briefing room so they had to get transport to take them out there. Four wheel drive jeeps were the vehicles of choice for the base ... Lorne and Piper settled in the back for the drive down the dusty runway towards their planes. The journey took a while, more than long enough for you to reflect on what you were about to do. It was serious business sure, but Evan enjoyed it, enjoyed the chance to do what he'd trained for. That was the interesting thing all the new guys learned – that you could miss home while still looking forward to the kind of flying you got to do in the Middle East.

Snipers, roadside bombs and fanatical insurgents weren't the only threats they faced on the ground. There were others – scorpions, sunburn, and heat stroke – the elements themselves making everything just that little bit harder. It was hot in the front seat of an F-16 too – temperatures could get in excess of a hundred and twenty degrees Fahrenheit – and you had to sweat it out in a heavy flight suit and anti-G pants. Of course all of that was forgotten when you were hugging the ground at 300 feet - it was the journey back to base when you noticed those discomforts.

Once at the hangar, Evan and Piper both greeted their ground crews with familiarity – when you relied on the same team of people to keep you in the air you made sure you got to know them pretty well.

"Good luck _almost_ Major Lorne," Piper said teasingly before they separated to move towards their individual F-16's.

"You too," Evan shook his head, not rising to her teasing. Ever since he'd made the mistake of admitting he'd finished the degree she'd known he'd started Piper had taken to calling him an 'almost' Major, telling him he just had to do something to distinguish himself and he was as good as promoted. He'd stopped correcting her and resorted to pointing out that unless she signed up for some study of her own she'd face the prospect of him outranking her for real, rather than just from experience.

* * *

Landing at Camp Rhino a couple of hours later Lorne and Piper left their planes to be refuelled while they checked in with the commanding officer keeping tabs on input from their forward air controllers, getting an update on the relative positions of all the players. It only took a few minutes, hardly enough time for them to get even an impression of Rhino, and then they were back up in the air again.

"Go to 20,000 feet," Lorne instructed, taking the lead position as Piper dropped her aircraft into formation beside him.

"20,000 feet," Piper confirmed.

"Wait for my mark and then descend to 5,000." They'd already discussed what they would do but Lorne still needed to give the order for each step. "We'll do the final drop below the flight deck when we're only a few miles out."

"Acknowledged."

Even in a full wing of planes, flying could be a lonely occupation if you let it. You had your radio but couldn't create unnecessary chatter by using it for anything other than essential communications until the mission was complete. It was just you and the sky and the mission ... and if you didn't think that was about as good as it got then you were in the wrong business.

"Drop to 5,000," Lorne said purposefully when they were close enough, adding moments later "and dive."

The planes soared through the sky, diving steeply until they pulled up sharply, levelling at around 300 feet above the ground. It was a heart in your throat, sitting on a knife's edge adrenalin rush – the ground flashing past below as you battled to ignore the feeling that any second the earth itself was going to reach up and grab you out of the sky.

The mission went flawlessly; their jets making the earth shake as they flew over the supplied coordinates.

"Pull up," Lorne ordered once they'd done a pass. "Let's give them another buzz – raise a little dust."

"I am totally for that," Piper quipped, keeping her flight line tight as she followed Evan in a wide loop and back towards and then over their 'target' with an ear jarring roar.

"That should do it," Evan grinned suddenly as he led the way back up to the open sky. "Was that as good for you as it was for me?"

"Oh hell yes," Piper shot back. "Tease."

"What, me or the mission?"

"Not you Mr Nice Guy," Piper was the one teasing now. "I meant the bad guys – I bet it burns to see us so close and not be able to take us out, knowing we could get rid of them before they went five yards."

"That's why they call it a show of force," Evan pointed out, amused at her summary of their mission result.

"Well, let's hope it did the trick today."

"We'll find out once we land back at Rhino," Lorne replied.

Even though they couldn't see the troops on the ground the pilots knew their presence was appreciated. A show of force wasn't the only trick in their bag, although it was more important than someone inexperienced with warfare might have expected. Lorne's wing could be called in at a moment's notice to support ground troops pinned down, ambushed or under heavy enemy fire. Already they'd provided the fire power, attacking and bombing insurgent installations and military compounds - all part of combined efforts to drive the Taliban somewhere they could finish them off.

It wasn't for glory or victory ... it wasn't to be the country in control of the most land. It was to take away the ability to the Taliban to engineer another September 11 and to seek justice from those responsible for the attacks. Beyond that it was for the people in outlying villages – to give them a chance to go about their business, rebuild their regional governments and their economy ... to bring peace to a country at war for 200 years.

Landing back at Camp Rhino an hour later, leaving his jet for the ground crews to check and refuel again, Lorne joined Piper and the mission commander for a debrief before they broke to refuel themselves. That's when they got the chance to take in the set up there. The base was surrounded by desert terrain Evan was sure would be more at home on the moon or in a science fiction flick. The outpost didn't belong out there in the middle of nowhere – as far as the brass had been able to tell it had been built for use as a drug distribution hub and then abandoned before it began operation. That intended purpose made it ideal from a defensive point of view. It was surrounded by a high wall with four guard towers. Inside those walls were warehouses and offices. Capping it off were actual sealed roads running throughout the camp and a three foot deep cement moat that bisected the base.

It was perfect for their needs but at the same time the facilities were minimalistic at best – in comparison, Al Udeid was luxury accommodation. Rhino had no showers or wash facilities and no messing facilities which meant literally pulling up a piece of ground and a ration pack for every meal. Water was a scarce resource, every drop having to be flown in. Where Lorne shared a semi permanent looking tent with 7 others, the guys at Rhino were being accommodated in a large open warehouse building – sleeping either on the cold cement or outside in the cold dirt. They were close to the front line, tactically significant, so after dark it was lights out for everyone, only those going out or assisting with night missions allowed to remain active.

Evan and Piper found their way to where a group of marines also returned from a night mission were sitting - one of the smaller warehouses used to store food supplies.

"How do you guys put up with this?" Piper asked, sitting on the ground next to Evan and opening her ration pack with a faint grimace.

"It's not forever," one replied with a shrug. "Another couple of weeks and we'll have taken Kandahar airport, moved everything there. Besides," the young man grinned across at Piper, "I kind of like rations."

"I bet you like airline food too," Piper shot back.

"What's wrong with airline food?" the marine retorted, making a play at being genuinely puzzled.

"If you don't know that there's no point telling you," Piper returned, shaking her head sadly and getting a laugh from everyone.

Lorne chuckled too, amused to see Piper holding her own in a group of testosterone charged marines still coming down from the high of a successful mission. But then, she was a marine herself so she was probably feeling right at home. Evan was the odd man out in that game.

"Once we take Kandahar you guys will probably end up stationed there too," another marine commented. "You can come and put a few craters in the ground for us." That sparked a conversation about military tactics and the war effort that lasted until their planes had been cleared by the ground crew and it was time for Lorne and Piper to return to Al Udeid.

It had been a long day and an even longer night but still Evan found it hard to settle once he was in his bunk back on base. The sounds of others sleeping wasn't distracting as much as it was frustrating - he'd been up for 20 hours, he should be tireder than any of them. It was his own mind that was keeping him awake - thoughts that he couldn't shut off. The world had changed too much in recent times and he sensed it was about to change again ...hopefully this time it would be a step in the _right_ direction.

Turning onto his stomach, Lorne buried his head in his pillow. "_Think about something good_," he told himself. Trouble was, these days life was all too serious and he couldn't help but think about why. One thing was for sure though - Evan was where he was meant to be – it had been a long time since he'd questioned the choices he'd made or the role he'd chosen for himself.

He'd made a difference that day ... helped their guys on the ground remain clear of the enemy. And with any luck he'd continue to make a difference until eventually it'd be somebody else's turn and he'd get to go home again.

**Authors Note:**

Thanks to MackenziesMomma for pointing out in her review of chapter 1 that of course Lorne would have actually introduced himself to Lieutenant Castles – I went back and corrected that by having Piper introduce him as their wing leader, Captain Evan Lorne.

I had to fix a few glaring errors I'd somehow missed in this chapter first time through and I don't know, it still seems a little ... boring to me, which compels me to promise you all that it will get good, eventually! I personally found it intriguing learning just what it was a fighter pilot did all day while stationed somewhere like Afghanistan – this was my attempt to reflect that. Lastly, I have no idea if two Captains would rib each other about getting to the next rank and who outranks who - seemed like the kind of thing Piper would do though, hence including it.


	3. Change of Address

**Chapter 3: Change of Address**

_December 2001_

In early December that change Lorne had sensed was on the way took place ... the U.S. Marines landed at Kandahar at the end of November and over the space of days took over control of the airport. The battle was intensive, the Taliban forces fighting fiercely until they made their last stand and were routed with the aid of explosive firepower directly on their position.

For Evan's part it was about backing up the troops from the air – they'd dropped bombs, destroyed enemy vehicles travelling towards the airport with reinforcements, as well as displaying the military power of the United States armed forces. What he did was a risk, but not in the same calibre in his mind to what those ground troops faced every day. And sometimes the risks came from unexpected sources. Reading the communication he'd just been given by the base commander, Lorne sighed sadly, nodding to the suggestion that he'd want to let his team know as soon as possible.

It was midday, which meant none of them were due to leave on a mission for some hours, although Lieutenant Pearce and Piper were on call. They couldn't stray too far from where their planes were parked or engage in any of the other things they usually used to distract themselves just in case they were needed. Knowing their new guys, Lorne was pretty sure he'd find Lieutenant Castles keeping time with the rest of the team even though he was free to be anywhere he wanted on base.

Walking into the pilots waiting area, located in a small room just off the main maintenance hangar, Evan was relieved to see he'd been right.

"Guys," he greeted the other three members of his squadron.

"Sir, Captain," the replies came back promptly.

"News from Kandahar," Evan began, motioning for them all to be at ease. Propping a hip on the nearest desk, Lorne paused, taking a moment before he began. "They had a friendly fire incident last night," he said. "A bomb carrying two thousand pounds of explosives missed the mark; landed too close to our troops."

"And?" Piper was experienced enough to know there was more.

"Three special forces soldiers were killed," Lorne gave the report in a tone that was sympathetic and heavy with the seriousness of the situation. "Nineteen others wounded. Plus another five Afghan fighters were killed, and more injured."

"How ...," Scott trailed off, not sure what he should ask.

"How did it happen?" Lorne asked, getting a nod in return. "They don't know yet. There'll be an investigation but at the end of the day we might never know unless an obvious pilot error occurred." He paused, considering what he'd say next. "It's a hazardous military tactic to use, calling in an air strike so close to your own troops. Not that it excuses what happened last night ... we're relying on the intel from the ground being up to the minute and they're relying on us being one hundred percent accurate. It doesn't take going off the mark much to end up with a disastrous result."

"How's the pilot doing?" Piper asked softly.

"I don't know but I'd say probably pretty badly," Evan replied, unable to give her more. They were suppressing the names of those involved for everyone's protection but in all likelihood it would be someone they at least knew of if not had flown with in the two months they'd been there. "Even if they acted precisely on the information and dropped that bomb exactly where requested, blue on blue causalities aren't something you can just accept lightly."

"No," Ryan Pearce spoke up, having taken the news with an unnatural quiet solemness.

"Lieutenant?" Lorne frowned, wondering at the other mans reaction. He'd read nothing of anything similar occurring in the young pilots record.

"I had a friend who served in Iraq Sir," Pearce replied. "Pilot – involved in a similar incident, through no fault of his own. He couldn't accept it, ended up leaving the force."

"It's difficult to know how anyone would react under those circumstances," Evan returned. "The best thing is to make sure they _don't occur _in the first place. We'll continue to plan every mission with the utmost care, confirm our intel before we make any drops, and live up to the accuracy I know we're all trained for. We'll do our best to make sure something like this doesn't happen on our watch." That last part sounded as much like an order as it did a pep talk.

"Yes Sir," even Piper gave him the Sir as they all straightened instinctively.

"Okay, back to business then," Evan stood straighter, nodding to Castles. "We've got a request to look over some terrain satellite imagery north of Kandahar. Came in via AWACS." Scott nodded, falling into step beside his CO as they left the room.

And with that it was back to business as usual, although none of them would forget ... they'd been careful before of course, but the deadly reminder of just what could go wrong sharpened the focus of all of them.

Two weeks later it was all over ... the Marines completed their takeover of Kandahar airport, beginning to set up a base of operations there. Troops began arriving almost immediately to continue the war effort.

The Taliban government had been overthrown but the work was still to be done. As the powers that be described it, they were shifting into the most difficult and dangerous phase of their military campaign – rooting out Taliban and al-Qaida terrorist leaders hiding in caves, tunnels, and any kind of fortified structure they could find.

Lorne and his squadron would still be showing the might of the U.S. air force but would now be acting as a rapid reaction force to protect U.S. interests in the region. To do that they needed to be closer to the action, and so, as predicted when Lorne and Piper had flown their last mission with the guys at Camp Rhino, the 389 were transferred to Kandahar.

* * *

_Evan Lorne_

_389 FW_

_APO AE 09355_

_._

_Elaine Rider_

_CFB Cold Lake_

_Cold Lake, AB T9M 1AO_

_Canada_

_._

_11__th__ December, 2001_

_._

_Dear Elaine,_

_I hope you and Mom are getting all my letters ... I'm only now realising how spoilt I'd become with video calling and emails and their associated instant response. Anyway, stop worrying about me because I'm still okay. This place is hell on my complexion though - too hot and dry and windy even for winter - and believe me when I say the sand gets in __everywhere.__ I know what you're thinking Sis - Evan should really be taking this much more seriously! I am ... but it's day to day life too and you have to lighten up or else drive yourself crazy._

_The big news is that we've relocated from Qatar to Afghanistan ... you've seen the news reports so you know the marines took Kandahar. I'm only telling you that so you can direct your 'please be careful' letters to the right place. The base is slightly less permanent feeling but otherwise is pretty much the same as al Udeid. We're bringing in crews and equipment every day - it'll be like a little city within a few months – yeah, pretty sure we're here for the long haul._

_It's an interesting country Sis. The base is so flat and bland you almost can't see it from the air but then there's the mountains all around, lots of places to hide just about anything. We do a lot of night flying which is just as well because you'd never spot the runway without all the lights. I haven't seen much else ... the locals are making themselves scarce for obvious reasons and time off outside of the base is a concept that just doesn't fly here. We're not the only FW here now but the number of missions we're flying is still keeping us pretty busy. Getting up in the air is a daily occurrence ... I don't need to tell you why. Listen Sis, I know the media is reporting on what's going on over here but don't take it too much to heart okay? It's tough sure, but anything they say will be completely out of context and probably inaccurate until they get the official word from Central Command. I'd say don't watch the news at all but I know you won't be able to resist so just don't take it too seriously, okay._

_So, obviously I won't be home for Christmas. It's still early December but by the time you get this it'll be close enough so I'll say Merry Christmas now. I've included my extensive wish list with this letter ... joking! Just ... stay happy. That'll be gift enough for me._

_Tell Drew I said Hi ... and would it kill him to write me a letter of his own instead of hijacking yours?!_

_Take care Lainee ... _

_Evan_

_P.S. Read as much of the touchy feely stuff as you need between the lines ... you know I'm no good at saying it, let alone writing it, but whatever you come up with, I mean every word._

_P.P.S. They're setting up a communal machine for emails and stuff like that. So hopefully I'll be able to hear more about what's going on at home soon. But keep writing until you hear from me ... there's plenty of down time to read as many letters as you feel like sending."_

Sitting back, Lorne reread the letter before deciding that it was good enough. Elaine had received enough letters from him over the years to understand what he'd shared and what he couldn't share. It was a fine line to walk but after so many years of service one he'd perfected.

It was still two weeks until Christmas ... usually the silly season wasn't one Evan got into that much. He'd happily pass the occasion without a mention but he knew Elaine still got excited and now more than ever it seemed important that he not ruin that by being a scrooge.

Catching a glimpse of his watch, Lorne quickly packed away his things, stuffing the completed letter in an addressed envelope. He'd be passing the admin building on his way to the daily pilots briefing so he could drop the letter off straight away. With any luck Elaine really would get the letter before the post shut down over Christmas.


	4. Thirty minutes redness

**Chapter 4: Thirty minutes redness**

_December 2001_

Every day all the pilots on base gathered for the meteorological report – current conditions plus the forward forecast for the entire region were covered to ensure that everyone was aware of what they might encounter. It had to be done that way because if called up for a rapid response mission you needed to be able to get in your plane and into the sky inside of half an hour. Anything you could prepare in advance you did because the pressure you felt knowing you'd been called in to help troops on the ground, that they were holding on, counting on you arriving to assist, was intense.

Once the met briefing was done, Lorne moved to get himself ready for his shift. He was at 30 minutes redness on call – which basically meant staying close to your plane just in case there was a call for assistance. Getting himself fully kitted up in his flight suit and making sure he had everything else, Evan was just checking his survival pack when Lieutenant Castles arrived, out of breath and with a look of dismay to see his CO already there and ready.

"Sorry Sir," Scott met Evan's eyes, his expression still that mix of earnestness and innocence Lorne knew he'd lose before too long.

"You've still got five minutes until shift starts Lieutenant," Lorne pointed out, a faint smile playing across his face as Scott reacted by hurrying into action. Evan had ended up formally changing the flying teams to keep the inexperienced pilot with him, letting Piper do the same for Lieutenant Pearce who did have some experience. He was getting to know the younger man who reminded him in some ways of himself, back when he was just starting out. And wasn't that a depressing thought - next he'd be thinking that maybe he was getting too old for this stuff.

Returning to his final checks, Evan opened his survival pack, also called a goat pack, and checked to make sure it was in order. For something that wasn't much bigger than his outstretched hand, the pack contained a lot of useful implements. A folded foil blanket because the nights got very cold and a matchless fire set that contained flint, steel, and cotton wool should he need to light a fire quickly. There were also condoms for carrying water and water purification tablets, a sewing kit, fishing kit, snare wire, candle, wire saw, cord and tensioners for making a shelter out of his own parachute. Everything a pilot would need if they had to eject and ended up too far away from immediate help – everything they needed and hoped they'd never have to use.

Refolding the pack Lorne put it in the lower leg pocket of his anti G trousers, checking his other pockets for the small packet of local money they signed for every day and returned when they got back to base, along with some standard phrases in the local dialect that might help in getting assistance. They also all carried a chip as well, basically telling anyone who came across a downed soldier that they'd be well paid if they assisted in getting that soldier back to the nearest base.

"Ready Lieutenant?" he asked, waiting the extra few moments until Castles joined him at the door, juggling his flight bag and helmet awkwardly.

"Yes Sir," Scott replied, regrouping and getting himself sorted quickly.

"Good flying conditions today," Evan commented as they walked to the transport area and their ride out to the hangar where they'd been spending the next six hours.

"Yes Sir," the young Lieutenant agreed, smiling as he added "it's almost cold."

"Winter, such as it is here," Lorne agreed. "Up in the mountains it's pretty much what you'd expect but down here in the plains this is the best we can hope for ... and it'll be bloody hot long before we get to go home again."

"Is it what you expected Sir, before you came out here?" Scott asked curiously.

"I'm not sure I expected anything in particular," Lorne admitted. "If you're smart you do your research before you get posted anywhere but the reality always carries its own surprises." He glanced over at Castles with interest. "What about you Lieutenant? This is your first major international posting right?"

"Yes Sir," Castles said it almost proudly.

"_One of the ones who couldn't wait to get out there_," Lorne thought. He'd been like that too – far too many years ago to admit to now.

"I didn't do enough research Sir," Scott continued. "And ... it's harder than I realised to be away from family for so long and not really have a reliable way of keeping in touch."

As they bounced down the dusty road, pulling into one of the hangars – nothing more than a really big high domed tent, open at each end while in operation – Lorne nodded, his own thoughts lining up with what Castles was feeling too.

"It'll get easier once we have a few more permanent facilities set up," Evan reassured the younger man as they both jumped out of the jeep. "But being away from home shouldn't be easy ... it's what we're fighting to defend so if you don't miss it then what's the point?"

"I never looked at it like that Sir," Scott admitted, his expression thoughtful as he considered Lorne's point of view.

"You do what you can to manage it," Evan smiled suddenly, "but don't be spending your whole time here thinking about when you can go back. I remember reading somewhere 'don't count the days, make the days count' ... that's true everywhere but particularly somewhere like this."

Heading for the pilot's waiting room first, the two dropped their flight bags and helmets off and then returned to talk to their maintenance crew.

That was something else different about their current posting – Lorne always made a habit of getting to know his ground crew, especially since his first Red Flag, but here it was even more important. You knew your plane from the cockpit view but the ground guys knew it from the nuts and bolts up. Maintaining it under the tough conditions of abrupt temperature changes, sand that seemed to float in the air, and the threat of sandstorms and attacks from the Taliban was a high stress job. Evan had the upmost respect and admiration for the men and women who could do that, keeping their focus for long shifts and under high demand conditions.

They'd only been sitting in the waiting lounge for an hour when the call came in. It wasn't unusual, with the taking of Kandahar still so fresh, the Taliban were less than inclined to go quietly or at all.

"We have troops pinned down outside of Kajaki Captain," the Command Central operator advised once they'd radioed in for details. "They requested close air support ASAP ... a second group of Taliban fighters are closing in to flank them from the south. You will eliminate that secondary threat and then fly low over their position."

"Acknowledged," Lorne motioned for Castles to join him at the maps pinned to the wall. Kajaki was north west of their position, about a hundred miles from the air base. They'd be flying over the mountains to get there, plenty of places for the Taliban to threaten along the way.

With specific and precise coordinates for where exactly they'd be concentrating their efforts, they quickly agreed on the specifics of their degree and angle of approach, grabbed their gear and moved swiftly towards their planes. As soon as the call had come in the engineers had gotten to work, completing the final preparations for air readiness. The planes had been towed to the runway access point ready for Evan and Scott.

Lorne walked around his jet, swiftly conducting the hundred plus external checks. Strapped into the cockpit, all the rest of his pre-flight work done, Evan powered up the F-16 and taxied out towards the runway proper, the young Lieutenant not far behind. They took off in formation, two powerful machines on a mission that was both routine and unique.

"Command, Alpha one one. We are at 20,000 feet, twenty miles out from target coordinates," Lorne reported ten minutes later after a routine flight into central Afghanistan.

"Target coordinates confirmed Alpha one one," the operator replied. Using the bird's eye view gained from the use of unmanned UAV's flying over the battle zone Command had confirmed that the area was clear of civilians and far enough from friendly troops for Evan and Scott to act.

So close to the point where action would be required Lorne felt the usual sharpening of focus, aided by adrenalin, experience and all the hours of training he'd done over the years. He was in the zone where he could take in information from all sources, draw together the slightest details and act immediately, between one breath and the next.

"Drop to 7000 feet, arm rockets," Lorne gave the order to Lieutenant Castles, doing the same inside his own jet.

"Alpha one one, Command. Forward air controllers have sighted the second enemy group south of their original position," the operator advised, giving Lorne updated coordinates. He made the corrections to their weapons calculations rapidly, double checking them to make sure they were right. Every instruction had to be precise to avoid collateral damage and blue on blue casualties. They didn't need the reminder of what had happened just weeks before to take the care required.

Eyes divided between the information on the HUD and what he could see of the terrain below, Lorne adjusted his approach slightly. Rechecking his calculations quickly, he flicked the cover off the rocket fire button ... only moments away from firing.

"Alpha one one, Command. Possible enemy ground to air missiles on your heading."

"Great," Lorne muttered under his breath. "Acknowledged," he reported back. "Maintaining course and speed."

Now it was a matter of nerve ... a fighter pilots version of playing chicken. He had to maintain his approach and complete his mission, while at the same time looking out for those anti aircraft missiles. Rotating the plane 180 degrees on its own axis Lorne took stock of the ground conditions, hoping to spot the glint of something man made where none should be. He didn't see the source but the missiles, trailing their tails of smoke as they sped upwards, were all too easy to spot.

"Missiles in the air!" He gave the heads up simultaneous with setting off a series of flares to hopefully lure the missile away.

Craning his neck backwards as much as possible Lorne tried to keep sight of the missiles ... annoyed but not surprised the flares hadn't been effective. He fired off one chaff countermeasure – a cloud of small, thin pieces of aluminium that would appear as a secondary target to radar guided weapons.

That didn't work either and the missiles were now closing rapidly.

"Alpha one two, break off and increase speed and altitude," Lorne made the decision quickly. He had a lock on where his rockets were going and within seconds would be able to fire them. If Lieutenant Castles could lure the missiles to follow him it would give Evan the small reprieve he needed to complete their primary mission before more missiles could be fired from the ground.

"Breaking off," Castles confirmed. Lorne sparred the battle zone a quick glance, noting that the ploy had worked. Focussing back on his HUD he regained some altitude and at precisely the right moment fired his weapons – two Hydra 70 rockets – in quick succession. The decision on whether to use rockets or bombs depended on the circumstances. Bombs were usually reserved for the destruction of enemy bunkers and strongholds, with the rockets being used to take out smaller enemy pockets of resistance. The rocket was a proportionate response for the day's mission, rather than putting a big bomb with a big blast on the ground.

"Rockets away," he reported, breaking sharply away. "Alpha one two, status report," he called as he headed back the way they'd come.

"Missiles are still on my six, evading," Castles replied, his voice just a little on the nervy side in Evan's estimation.

"I'm coming up behind you Lieutenant, hang tight," Evan returned. The display on the HUD told the story ... Castles was flying low and throwing his plane around as much as possible to keep the missiles from getting a lock. Lorne dropped down behind him and locked on to the first missile, firing forward guns in a short burst that blew the weapon out of the sky. "One down, one to go," he said, locking on to the second missile. In a matter of seconds it was all over and they were alone in the sky again.

"Command, Alpha one one. Enemy missiles destroyed," Lorne reported.

"Alpha one one, Command. Confirm direct rocket hit on enemy position. All targets neutralised. Proceed to second coordinates for low level fly by."

"Acknowledged," Lorne and Castles regrouped into a wing to wing close formation and dropped altitude as they flew over the requested coordinates. On the ground they would have been an almost blur of motion accompanied by the roar of engines capable of Mach 2 at altitude. It was an impressive display and hopefully for today that, along with the destruction of their reinforcements, would be enough to turn back the insurgents, freeing their own troops to return to base.

"Fly by complete," Lorne reported once they'd completed their pass and returned back to 20,000 feet.

"Good job Alpha one. Return to base."

Giving the return acknowledgement, Lorne led the way back towards Kandahar. "Nice flying Lieutenant," he complimented.

"Thank you Sir," Castles replied. "Thanks for the assist. It got a little tight there and I couldn't shake them enough to get into an attack position."

"You did well to evade them," Evan pointed out. "And we completed our mission."

"Yes Sir," Lorne could hear the faint smile in the younger man's voice.

Settling in for the return journey, still riding the high of adrenalin and success, Lorne would be the first to admit that it was almost euphoric. To someone who'd never been in battle, never engaged an enemy, that would probably be hard to understand ... because he'd taken a number of lives that day, a number he might never know, people he'd never even laid eyes on.

But Evan didn't see it that way. It wasn't about taking lives, it was about _saving_ lives, and he had no doubt they'd saved the lives of U.S. soldiers that day. You had to keep it to that simple equation because it really was 'us or them' ... and Lorne knew were he to catch up with their ground troops later, they'd all be thanking him. The fighter pilots didn't get called unless they were needed. They didn't get to see the ground troops under attack from way up in the cockpit but ultimately that's what they were there to prevent. And today they had.


	5. Ground conditions

**Chapter 5: Ground conditions**

_February 2002_

Afghanistan was an interesting place – with unique flying conditions, no matter how many hours of cockpit time you had under your belt. It was an intriguing country to fly over too – huge hills and vast deserts, terrain at fifteen to twenty thousand feet above sea level, plus areas at sea level itself – it took a little getting used to.

The pace and flow of life at Kandahar airbase took a little getting used to as well ... letting yourself sink into the monotonous daily routine of working, eating and sleeping. They'd set up an area for sports – football mostly – but the base was still on such a heightened state of readiness for attack that rarely did a game actually get completed. Running was a popular pass time, as was sparring, loosely labelled as physical fitness 'training'. Lorne enjoyed the running more than he enjoyed getting his butt kicked by the younger, stronger marines. When it came to taking on the other pilots though he still had an edge and was even increasing that a little with everything he learned from the guys who specialised in hand to hand combat - the up side of getting his butt kicked.

Evan had also taken to sketching again to alleviate the hours of inactivity, particularly when he was on call for emergency missions. The sketch book he'd brought with him was now a quarter full ... head and shoulder sketches of his team mates plus anything else that took his fancy. Piper's compassion the day a local boy had made it to the main gate crying over the disappearance of his parents. Scott running a hand over his jet almost lovingly. Ryan grinning in delight after being knocked down by the special forces guys _again_ during training. Random shots of maintenance crews, marines ... people he didn't know the names of that had struck him as interesting when he'd looked for subjects.

The base and the countryside featured in there as well ... the stark contrast of the plains around Kandahar and the mountains looming in the distance surrounding them. Rows and rows of semi permanent tents housing the troops, hidden behind blast walls. The surveillance tower, manned every minute of the day, solitary and somehow purposeful as well. He'd even drawn what the guys had begun referring to as the TLS – Taliban Last Stand – the squat yellow administration building the ousted regime had retreated to and then been expelled from with explosive force. That spot represented something meaningful – the overthrow of the Taliban government and the beginning of the long haul – the military's efforts to do what it had promised. Flush out and once and for all put to rest the continual threat faced by the Afghans for too many years.

The AEW - air expeditionary wing - had been busy over January and into February setting up facilities for the troops and had finally provided them with an email station available for everyone to use. General use telephone services were there too, limited and not often reliable.

Evan emailed home every couple of weeks, eagerly looking for replies from both his Mom and Elaine and Drew. He wouldn't say that they'd gotten used to him being so far away but the tone of their messages had relaxed as the weeks went by. No one could maintain the heightened level of anxiety experienced when a loved one first left for a war zone. Lorne was sure that every time there was a news report from Afghanistan that anxiety would re-emerge, despite his instructions that they not believe everything they heard, especially in the context it was reported in.

"You up for a spot of sparring Sir?" Lieutenant Castles approached Lorne at the sidelines where he'd been watching the die hards going at it. Evan felt tired just watching them sweat it out against each other.

"You think you can take me Lieutenant?" Lorne challenged, amused.

"I'll give it my best shot Sir," Scott replied blandly. He'd already come a long way since his arrival, lost a little of that puppy dog enthusiasm and innocence. He still acted like he was on duty every minute he was awake, still spent time in the hangar with the jets and the crew on call even when he wasn't, but was maturing almost too rapidly. War did that to young men and women.

"Okay," Evan got up, dusting off his pants and making his way to one of the empty mats. Taking off his boots but leaving his socks on and his sleeves down, Lorne grabbed a water bottle and took a quick drink before signalling that he was ready.

Scott came at him, forceful and confident, his style mostly boxing with fists raised and feet continually moving. Lorne shifted back to avoid the hit, spinning and snapping out a quick sideways hit to the small of the younger man's back before resetting to the ready pose.

"That's one," he said lightly, watching for the next approach.

Scott set himself determinedly, dancing from foot to foot as he circled Lorne. This time he did a quick succession of jabs that Evan mostly blocked. Grabbing for the Lieutenant's wrist Lorne spun quickly, twisting the captured arm around and behind Scott's back. He held it there for a moment to make the point before letting go.

"Two to you Sir," Scott was undeterred as he regrouped, his expression intent and focussed.

Lorne could practically see the wheels turning as the other man considered his next move. He'd let Scott take the offensive, lulled him into a state of expecting defensive actions only. Now, while the young Lieutenant was still thinking, he moved rapidly for a classic shoulder throw. Scott was on the ground looking up at Evan before he could even blink.

"That's three," Lorne announced, holding out a hand to help Castles up. Usually matches ended when one of the players had scored three hits but immediate rematches were commonplace. "Go again?"

"Of course Sir," Scott looked for all the world as though being thrown to the ground by his CO was the best fun, aside from flying of course. Smiling, Lorne reset himself again, waiting to see what the younger man would try next.

The sound of the G-CAS bell cut through the noise of similar matches going on around them like a knife. G-CAS meaning Ground Alert Close Air Support bell ... the system that let them know the base was under attack. The siren was an eerie sound that continued to echo as everyone moved to action.

Lorne and Scott ran with those close by to the nearest concrete walls, grabbing helmets and whatever body armour they could find along the way. Evan pulled on a helmet as they dropped to the dusty ground, his heartbeat sounding loudly in his ears.

The al Qaida locals made it a regular practice to fire rockets at the base. Secretary of State Colin Powell had visited Afghanistan in January and promised that the United States would help rebuild the country and wipe out the "contamination" of terrorism. Clearly al-Qaida hadn't taken kindly to that, stepping up their attacks on U.S. held positions, in particular their base in Kandahar.

It was a random thing in the sense that they didn't aim at anything specific inside the airfield – their rockets got fired into the area to land somewhere, usually doing damage along the way. It was pretty much a weekly occurrence, to cause disruption as much as it was to destroy.

"I wonder how long they'll keep us down this time," one of the marines muttered.

"Too long," another retorted impatiently.

Evan shifted, crouching with his back to the wall, listening intently for that unmistakable sound of approaching rockets. "Okay Lieutenant?" he asked, noting that Scott was having the same difficulty getting comfortable. Bomb shelters were probably on the to do list for the AEW but so far all they'd managed was the squat concrete walls interspersed throughout the occupied parts of the base.

"Yes Sir," Scott replied, settling and looking around alertly.

For men of action, waiting around for an attack without being able to stop it or do anything in return was a particular kind of frustration. You could feel the adrenalin – that hook to the fight or flight response kicking in but you couldn't use it for anything. To Evan's mind it was like having ants crawling under your skin ... or worse ... and not being able to brush them away.

The sound of the rockets approach mixed with the still wailing siren warning had them all getting as low to the ground as they could.

It sounded close ... too close.

Evan was looking directly at the football field – sparring rings to one side – so he saw the ground erupt in a wall of sand, the dust cloud blooming up and obscuring his view of the resulting damage. The wave of sound that hit straight after along with the splinters of rock showering their position let them know just how close the hit had come.

Waiting to see if more followed, Evan raised a hand to one of a number of spots on his face that stung, pulling away and grimacing slightly at the smear of blood left behind. As the sirens kept up their repetitive call, Lorne ran quick eyes over those closest to him, noting that many sported small wounds probably similar to his own but were otherwise in good shape.

The abrupt halt of the G-CAS bell, the silence that reigned for a few moments before people began to move again was stark. Lorne rose to his feet, moving slowly along with most of those nearby back towards the sparring area. The dust had settled, leaving behind a small crater piled around all sides with sand where once the practice mats had been. Without the warning they'd have still been standing there, probably twenty plus men and women would have been killed.

It was a close call, the closest Lorne had ever had, and it left him feeling unsettled ... vulnerable in a way he'd never been before. Being surrounded by your jet, with at the very least the illusion of being in control, of having your fate in your own hands delivered a kind of confidence Evan suspected the ground troops never enjoyed. Seeing a rocket hit the ground only a few feet away – on your own turf, in the place you expected to feel some measure of protection – was hell and away removed from that same confidence. It was something that had to put up with but nothing he'd ever get used to.

* * *

_From: Captain Evan Lorne (elorne at aefw389 . af . mil)_

_Sent: Saturday, 17 February 2002 10:11:47 AM_

_To: Grace Lorne (grace _ lorne at aol . com)_

_Subject: Happy Birthday_

_Mom_

_I know you don't like to acknowledge it but Happy Birthday anyway. Being here has reminded me to make the most of every moment, clichéd as that sounds. That includes, and I'm carefully refraining from mentioning an actual age here, special birthdays! So go out and get up to some mischief okay – and then come back and tell me all about it._

_Everything is fine here ... I'd rather hear about what's happening back home. Did you ever get that kid – the jock – to sign up for your drawing class? Man, doesn't that bring back memories, huh?_

_I –_

"Captain Lorne, call for you," Evan looked up from the computer, seeing one of the admin guys holding the satellite phone aloft.

"Hang on," he said, turning back to the screen and quickly finishing his message.

_I have to go Mom. Enjoy your special day ... wish I was there to help you blow out all those candles._

_Yours,_

_Evan._

Clicking Send he waited for the message to clear the outbox and then quickly signed off. Getting phone calls was a rarity and he tried not to worry about why he was getting one, instead pushing back from the computer and taking the phone with a grateful nod.

"Evan Lorne," he said briskly.

"Evan!" Elaine's voice came to him, slightly muffled and sounding thick. Was she crying?

"Elaine?" he replied, taking a few steps away from the others in the room for as much privacy as he could achieve. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing ... I just ...," she sniffed, swallowing audibly. "I wanted to hear your voice."

"What happened?" Evan asked in a gentle tone.

"Oh Evan," Elaine burst into speech, punctuated with short sobs. "Drew got new orders today. He's being sent to Afghanistan next month!"

"You knew it was a possibility," Evan kept his tone reasonable; trying not to create the impression that he thought her reaction was too extreme.

"I _know_ but ...," she trailed off, sniffing again.

"It's different when it's reality," he concluded for her. Pausing, listening to her trying to collect herself, Evan sighed. "Listen, Lainee ... it's not as bad here as you're imagining. I don't know what you've seen on television but we're got a strong position. It isn't attacks every day or anything like that. If you didn't stray from the base you'd hardly know this is a war zone."

"Don't try to down play it Evan," he smiled as some of her usual stubbornness and strength returned to her voice.

"I'm not ... Drew's my friend too Elaine and frankly if he were a part of the ground troops then I'd be a lot more concerned."

"You'll ...," again she hesitated, letting him fill in the blanks.

"Watch out for him?" Evan suggested with a smile. "Do you really think he'd going to go for that?"

"No," Elaine admitted ruefully. "Maybe I should be telling him to look after you instead."

"I'll fill him in on all the need to knows," Evan promised. "He'll be okay Elaine."

"You promise?" she asked wistfully.

"You know I can't do that," he replied gently. "But he's a good pilot ... almost as good as me."

"Hah – you wish!" Elaine laughed when Evan protested that.

"Better now?" he asked once she was silent again.

"A little ... I guess," Elaine replied. She sighed and then continued. "I miss you big brother."

"Miss you too," he returned, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. "Keep those emails and letters coming okay?"

"I will ... I love you."

"You too," Evan said, waiting a moment and then slowing closing off the call.

He wasn't sure what to think – part of him felt for his sister, and worried about how she'd handle being by herself for what would likely be months. Another part though was almost excited to have his best friend stationed at the same base for the first time since he'd left Cold Lake. Did that make him a bad friend? A bad brother? Or just human? They weren't questions he had answers to ... so he'd just look forward to Drew's arrival and continue to reassure his sister that everything would be okay.

**Authors Note:**

In my usual mathematical way I calculated how often each person on base would be able to use that one email machine. If each got 10 minutes or so per session and it was running 24/7, assuming around a thousand troops posted there, they'd get a turn every 11 days or so. Yeah, not as often as I thought either! I think they need more computers!!! Hope you're all still enjoying this.


	6. The company of friends

**Chapter 6: The company of friends**

_March 2002_

The rest of February and half of March passed in a blur of what was normal life at Kandahar - almost daily missions and weekly attacks on the base interspersed with making the rest of the time as interesting as you could. The only thing that broke it up for Lorne was the contacts he had with home. The roster for the one email station was long so even with it running pretty much 24/7 he only got a ten minute slot every couple of weeks - that was just enough to read the emails from his Mom and Elaine and send his replies. He'd sent Drew an email early in the month too, knowing the other man was engaged in four weeks of intensive training preparing for his tour in Afghanistan.

_From: Captain Evan Lorne (elorne at aefw389 . af . mil)_

_Sent: Saturday, 5 March 2002 10:01:19 AM_

_To: Captain Andrew Rider (arider at cfbcl . forces . ca)_

_Subject: Useful information_

_Drew_

_Elaine told me you're coming over here (where's my email from you buddy?) and I promised when I spoke to her that I'd fill you in on all the need to knows. So here they are, in no particular order. I know you're training right now so some of these might come in handy before you leave._

_1. when they put you in the big room and tell you to take your gas mask off, don't breathe in;_

_2. the bullets go in so the pointy bit comes out first - I know it's been a while since you handled a weapon so you might not remember that;_

_3. bring lots and lots of sunscreen ... and moisturiser (yes, I DO think you're that vain!). Seriously, this place has pretty much zero humidity most of the time;_

_4. bring your Gortex jacket too - you might be tempted to leave it out to make room for your hair dryer but it's bloody cold here after dark and we're still running more missions at night than we are during the day;_

_5. actually, don't bother bringing anything electrical - the sand gets into everything and renders it pretty much worthless junk after a few weeks;_

_6. the Afghans are on our side ... al Qaida are the bad guys. Now all we need is a reliable way to tell the difference._

_I could go on, entertaining as it is, but my time on the computer's nearly up. Seriously man, since you're coming here anyway I've decided its okay for me to be looking forward to the company. I don't have to tell you how worried Elaine is ... not sure there's anything much either of us can do about that._

_Give her a hug from me before you go ... I'll see you in a couple of weeks Bro._

_Evan_

* * *

_From: Captain Andrew Rider (arider at cfbcl . forces . ca)_

_Sent: Sunday, 6 March 2002 23:15:10 PM_

_To: Captain Evan Lorne (elorne at aefw389 . af . mil)_

_Subject: Re: Useful information_

_Evan_

_Thanks for the email buddy - you're a funny guy ... not! I'll take note of the useful information you buried in there though - suppose I should say thanks for that. I did the toxic gas test already - held my breath until I felt blue in the face - but that stuff still stung my eyes like a son of a bitch. Not pleasant ... they're not really using it over there, are they?_

_Yeah, Elaine's upset I'm going. She admitted that she called you crying about it - part of me wanted to say sorry I didn't stop her from bothering you over there but the rest of me was just a little proud of her resourcefulness. Not too many wives here who could get a personal call into Afghanistan right now. Although I think she's regretting using up a favour in the heat of the moment. Anyway, she's going to go spend a couple of weeks with your Mom after I leave - get her over the initial transition._

_I'm catching up with the boys before I head out ... Marcus called the other day to ask how you're doing. I told him what I know but you should probably email everyone when you get the chance. I know you don't like admitting it but people care about you which means they worry - and in the absence of real information they'll use their imaginations._

_Okay, so I'll be there somewhere around the 20th ... see you then._

_Drew_

* * *

Evan grinned as he read Drew's reply ... typical of his friend to both express his concern for a friend while at the same time telling Evan off for not keeping everyone in the loop. Lorne hadn't managed to get another turn on the computer since he'd sent his original message so the email was already almost two weeks old - Drew's unit was due to arrive within a couple of days.

It took longer than that to get to Afghanistan so Elaine would already be at his Mom's which probably explained why he hadn't gotten a reply from her. Being quiet like that, even in email land, wasn't like his sister so Evan knew she was taking Drew's leaving hard. The two had been spoiled since they'd gotten married because Drew stayed at Cold Lake. In fact this was the first time since they'd met that he'd gone somewhere for an extended period where she couldn't follow. Evan didn't like thinking of his sister having such a hard time of it; this situation was exactly the reason he'd initially been against her getting involved with someone in the military. What made it more frustrating was that he wasn't there to help - not that the presence of a brother, no matter how much she loved him, would compensate for her husband not being around. But if he'd been there he could have distracted her - some petty sibling rivalry and bickering would probably have done the trick.

Opening a new message, Lorne thought for a minute and then fired off a quick message to Elaine ... in it he deliberately avoided any comments about Drew and instead asked her for a favour. Outside of work day to day life at Kandahar was light on entertainment - could she chase up some military approved art supplies, paints and canvas and stuff, and ship it over to him? It wasn't much of a distraction but he knew Elaine would take it as a mission and from personal experience Evan was already aware that getting approval to send over paints and in particular the necessary thinners and cleaners would be a challenge. The next message to his Mom was a little more detailed ... there wasn't much he could do but he still asked her to let him know if she was unusually worried about Elaine. Maybe he could pull some strings and get her another personal call since she'd used up her own strings calling him.

Glancing at the timer, Evan shook his head at himself for actually taking what Drew had written to heart even as he opened another new message and began typing a quick update to Marcus. If he was fast enough he could get in one to Cade, Paul and Neil as well. He didn't want to do a group email - each was important enough a friend to deserve their own message from him - and made a note to himself to also email Dom and Riley as soon as he could. He'd maintained contact with the two Australian pilots since their shared Red Flag, enough to know that their country was also already talking about sending over troops in support of U.S. efforts to help the people of Afghanistan. There were other friends, from Nellis, from other postings but there was only so much he could do with the limited resources available.

Finishing just in time, Lorne signed off and made way for the next soldier eager for contact with home.

* * *

"Lo -," Evan got to Drew before he could complete that greeting, slapping a hand to the taller man's back.

"_Drew_," he returned, raising an eyebrow pointedly when the other man grinned innocently. Lorne had arranged to switch shifts with one of the other fighter wings so that he'd have the off time to see his friend settled in. Piper, Scott and Ryan had all welcomed the bigger slab of free time even though they'd all be pulling double shifts to make it up later in the week.

"_What_? I was just going to say _Lorne_," Drew insisted.

"Sure you were," Lorne replied. "I've finally managed to get away from serving with anyone who knows about that call sign and you're not gonna ruin it for me."

"What call sign you going by these days then?" Drew was curious, it wasn't a subject that had come up and, knowing Evan, wasn't one he'd volunteer.

"Does it matter?" Evan said evasively. He _had_ earned a new call sign after his efforts during Deliberate Forge and it was actually pretty cool, especially in comparison to 'Love'. They'd dubbed him _Peregrine_ – after the Falcon species of the same name – because the bird was blue-grey like a fighter jet and because when it swooped down on its prey it could go as fast as 200 miles per hour, making it the fastest animal on the planet. At Nellis Lorne had been known for both his accuracy and the speed with which he hit his opponents in the sky so the new call sign made sense ... even if it felt a little like bragging to admit to it.

"Not really," Drew grinned, "because you know you'll always be 'Love' to me!"

"Yeah, very amusing ... _Easy_," Lorne retorted. "They shown you around yet?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, just the essentials," Drew fell into step beside his friend and brother-in-law as they walked from where the Canadian's had set up their admin services out towards the centre of Kandahar airfield.

"Let me show you where everything else is, introduce you to a couple of people," Evan offered, heading for the square where they usually played football. "There's not much to do when you're not working - some sports, sparring training if you're feeling energetic." Lorne grinned. "Don't spar with the marines unless you're in the mood to have your ass slammed into the dirt."

"Good advice," Drew returned, his eyes moving from left to right as he took everything in. He'd arrived on the base that morning - after days of travel and stopovers - and had been briefed by the head of the Canadian contingent. So far they were a small presence - one fighting wing, a couple of supply and support aircraft and two units of ground troops. Although the Canadian's would be running their own units their efforts were in conjunction with the command decisions of the U.S. Military. They had their own hangar at Kandahar but everything else formed part of the shared facilities created and managed by their U.S. allies. It was the start of allied countries joining the U.S. given that the campaign in Afghanistan looked to be heading into long term territory.

"Mess facilities," Evan continued walking. "If it says meatloaf take the alterative."

"Bad?" Drew grimaced.

"You have _no_ idea," Evan returned with a shudder. "Still, better than ration packs which is what the first guys here survived on for a while - and it's getting better every week the more people we have stationed here."

"So, five star restaurant by the time we head home then," Drew concluded with a faint smile.

"They tell you how long you'll be here?" Lorne asked curiously, leading Drew to an area where they could sit and watch the newest of the activities available on base - volleyball. Someone had rigged up a net and they'd begun a four a side game.

"Four months minimum," Drew replied. "Probably more this time because they're still working out how they'll train and rotate squads through Afghanistan and other postings. You?"

"Open ended," Evan shrugged. "Depends on demand and right now that's at the high end. I can't see getting back to the States inside of six months."

"That's a long tour," Drew commented.

"It is but some of the special forces guys have been here since the start - a month longer than us." Evan watched a particularly hard fought point on the court before turning back to Drew. "And better me that someone with a family and kids back home."

"Your Mom and sister would disagree with that," his friend said pointedly.

"I know they would but it's different seeing someone every few weekends and them being gone to living with them every day," Lorne tried to explain. "That kind of leaving changes lives on a daily basis." He shrugged, trying to dismiss the subject. "Not that I think it's wrong that you're here - I just think posting the guys without families first makes a lot of sense."

"Maybe," Drew allowed for the possibility. "Maybe not - families back home are great incentives to stay focussed and give it everything while you're here."

"Something worth fighting for?" Evan suggested.

"Exactly," Drew watched the volleyballers, wincing when one slammed into the dirt diving for the ball. "You play?" he nodded towards the game.

"Not so far" Evan replied. "The net's a new addition so someone in the last batch of new guys must have brought it with them."

"Shall we?" Drew asked when the first group vacated the court, leaving it open for new players.

"Really? You want to play right now?" Evan asked, surprised.

"It was a _long_ trip here," Drew shrugged. "I could do with a work out – stretch out some of the kinks."

"Fine," Evan got up, leading the way over. Looking down at himself, decked out in the standard issue training uniform and footwear everyone wore when not flying, he decided it was as good as anything else he had available. No one stepped up for a match initially so he called out "anyone up for a game ... two a side?"

"We'll take you on Sir," Lieutenants Castles and Pearce appeared as if out of nowhere, both smiling in anticipation.

"Of course you will," Evan muttered under his breath. In a normal voice he made the introductions. "Drew, this is Lieutenant Scott Castles and Lieutenant Ryan Pearce - two of the three members of the 389 – my wing. Guys, this is Captain Andrew Rider. He'd Canadian but don't hold it against him."

"Sir," the two replied, standing straighter until Drew motioned for them to be at ease. "First day here Sir?" Scott asked curiously.

"Yeah," Drew picked up the discarded volleyball and tossed it into the air, catching it lightly. "Long trip ... I need to clear out the cobwebs."

"Then let's play," Evan said, pulling Drew into a position on their side of the court. "Three shots, call it when you're taking the first," he instructed. Moving to the baseline marked with white rope Lorne set himself, tossed the ball high in the air and then leapt, hitting it at the high point of his swing and sending it shooting straight at Scott's feet. The speed and precision of the serve surprised the other side and the ball slammed into the dirt untouched, raising a cloud of dust.

"I think the Captain's done this before," Scott murmured to Ryan.

"I'd say so," Ryan smirked, switching places with his teammate so that he was in the receiving position.

Evan served again but this time Ryan was able to get his arms into position, digging the ball high into the air. Scott scrambled to get under it, digging the ball back to Ryan for the third hit. Ryan leapt, spiking it over the net. Drew had been anticipating, shifting as he followed the balls progress on the other side. When Ryan leapt, he did too, hands raised to block. The ball went back to their opponent's side too quickly for Ryan to get another hand to it and the second point was theirs.

Similar play went on for the next four points, Evan serving consistently and competently, resulting either in an immediate point or a short rally that ended in their favour.

"You never mentioned your volleyball prowess," Drew said in an aside as they changed ends.

"Neither did you," Evan returned. "It was big at the academy ... smacking the crap out of the ball was always more beneficial than anything else I could have hit, punching bag aside."

"Yeah, I can see that," Drew grinned. "Shall we give them an opening?"

"Nah, let's wipe the sand with their pride," Evan said it loudly enough that Scott and Ryan could hear, laughing when they protested.

It was one of those rare moments that occurred in such circumstances – a time when you forgot where you were and what was at stake and just enjoyed the moment and the people who were with you creating it. The kind you thought back on fondly and even smiled over in the midst of destruction and fear.

Drew and Evan did as they'd jokingly bragged, 'wiping the floor' with their younger opponents through a combination of skill, determination and that special connection they shared as both friends and family.

"Welcome to Afghanistan," Evan said as he high fived Drew when their victory was declared.

"Thanks," Drew returned, already feeling comfortable and silently thanking the big guy upstairs for putting him somewhere Evan had already paved the way.

* * *

"Command, Alpha one one, fox 2," Evan pushed the button and felt the release of two heat seeking missiles targeting a line of Taliban supply trucks on the ground below. For 'supply' substitute weapons – the latest intel had confirmed they were carrying automatic and semi automatic rifles as well as small scale anti aircraft missiles and launchers.

Veering left Lorne sent his jet in a wide sweeping turn, keeping his sights on the ground. Not that he was worried he'd miss the target – the weapons calculations they did in the aircraft were very accurate so even without a guided missile they usually hit on or near the intended target. But no day was a good day to make a mistake.

Dropping altitude Lorne was close enough to the action to see the ball of fire that erupted as the missiles struck – his and Lieutenant Castles' landing in quick succession on every vehicle in the convoy. It was too big an explosion for simple supply trucks, confirming once again that their intel was correct.

"Command, target has been neutralised," Evan reported in.

"Well done alpha one, return to base."

"Acknowledged," Lorne took the lead position, leading his wingman away from the scene. "Nice work Lieutenant," he said.

"Thank you Sir," Scott replied, the pleasure he felt at the praise just coming through in his tone.

Settling in for the flight back, Evan scanned the ground, not really looking for anything as such. It was habitual – teaching himself the lay of the land so that even in a place like Afghanistan with its terrain that varied from flat desert to soaring mountains but looked remarkably similar when you were in the midst of either he recognised where he was.

He almost missed what looked like a flare of white light and a burst of something off the ground ... just a hint of motion on the edge of his vision that had him turning to look closer. He thought he could just make out an impression of dust settling but was too far away to tell for sure.

"Dropping altitude," he told Scott before taking his plane rapidly down to 700 feet.

"Problem Sir?" Scott asked, following him down.

"Probably not," Lorne admitted. "Thought I saw a flare a couple of miles south east of us ... likely it's nothing more than sun glinting off scrap down on the ground but it's worth checking out."

"Yes Sir," Castles agreed, taking up his formation position hanging just off the back of Lorne's right wing.

Evan took his plane directly over the ridge where he'd seen ... something and then looped back for another pass.

"I can't see anything out of the ordinary," he finally admitted. "You?"

"Nothing jumped out at me Sir," Scott replied.

"Sunlight and a gust of wind," Evan concluded. "Not unusual but we had to confirm it." Looking down at the ground one final time and seeing nothing more than mountain scrub and rocks, Lorne continued. "Okay, back to the scheduled programming."

It had been a good day – they'd hampered the enemy's efforts to renew their arms without causing any collateral damage to the locals or their property.

It'd be nice if that could be enough to dissuade their bad guys but it seemed there were always more trucks with more weapons acquired from people who didn't seem to care who they armed or for what purpose. So in all likelihood they'd be back to do the same or similar in the not too distant future. Still, it was progress of a sort and you quickly learned to take success where you could find it, so Lorne chalked up the day as one for the good guys.

**Authors Note:**

I didn't confirm when Canada actually got involved in Afghanistan, nor specifically how the U.S. initially ran joint missions with their allies - because I wanted to bring Drew into Evan's current world. Canada was there fairly early on though so accuracy wise it shouldn't be that far out. Also I'm not sure about Lorne's new call sign - pilots collect them during their careers depending on what happens to them so it's fair to assume that Evan wouldn't have kept 'Love'. I was just going to be vague and say he had a different one but decided to pick something - because hey, I can always change it later if I want to! Thanks for reading!!


	7. Disciplines collide

**Chapter 7: Disciplines collide**

_April 2002_

Six months. He'd been in Afghanistan _six_ months already. On the one hand it seemed like the time had gone by relatively fast but on the other it felt endless, like he'd never been anywhere else.

Having Drew there helped ... although they hadn't flown any missions together as yet, they did spend a lot of their off time together. It brought back that familiar feeling of camaraderie from their training days and made activities that otherwise would have felt repetitive more interesting.

It seemed that Elaine had settled into life apart from her husband too – if her emails to Evan and what Drew was saying were any indicators. She reassured both of them, in fact she did more than that – faster than Evan would have thought possible a package from the States arrived with her handwriting on the label.

Opening the letter first, he read.

"_Dear Evan,_

_Don't think I don't know you gave me an almost impossible mission to distract me from saying goodbye to Drew. It was pretty obvious ... but I appreciate the thought. So – paints and art supplies huh? I hope you realise that now I've delivered on your request you'll have to actually paint something – and I expect to see the result, whether it's good or bad in your eyes, so no copping out. As you probably already knew I couldn't get oil paints or anything similar approved because the cleaning agents and thinners can be used for 'suspicious' activities. I did come up with something though ... and I have to say I'm really looking forward to seeing what you do with them._

_Have fun!_

_Your loving sister, Elaine._"

Almost cautiously Lorne tore off the tape and opened the cardboard box she'd packed for him. As soon as he saw the contents he started to laugh ... even unsettled and upset she still managed to surprise him.

"Children's water paints," he muttered, taking out the solid disks of colour with amusement. She'd also provided him with paper suitable for that medium and a selection of brushes.

He'd honestly thought Elaine would have to concede defeat, never dreaming she'd send over what were essentially children's supplies. It had been too long since he'd actually sat down to paint – sketching had been as much as he'd allowed himself and that only since his tour of Europe and the inspiration it's galleries provided.

"Care package from home?" Piper walked into the pilot's briefing room, looking across to Lorne's desk curiously.

"Kind of," Evan replied with a shrug. "My sister's idea of a challenge."

"You paint too?" Piper's brows rose as she got a better look at what Elaine had sent Lorne. She'd seen him sketching from time to time but he was always reticent about showing anyone the results.

"Used to," he shrugged. "Haven't for a long time – I only asked her to get me art supplies because I thought she wouldn't be able to."

"Well that makes sense," Piper frowned. "You didn't want her to send you anything?"

"It was meant to be a distraction," Evan smiled faintly, "yeah I know, a pretty stupid one really. Her husband shipped out and she was upset so ...," he trailed off.

"So you thought you'd play big brother and try to help her deal with it," Piper concluded. Moving to stand behind him she ruffled his hair even as he ducked away. "You really are a nice guy aren't you?"

"Watch it," Evan protested.

"What are you gonna paint with those?" Piper asked, nodding towards the box.

"I have _no_ idea," Lorne retorted. "Gotta be something though right – after my sister actually managed to get me what I asked for, creative as it is."

"So your brother-in-law is military too?" Piper asked with interest.

Lorne winced at the question. He and Drew hadn't made a conscious decision to keep their family connection a secret. They'd been friends first – _best_ friends and had slipped back into that relationship so easily that the extra part, the fact that Drew was married to Elaine became a part of the unspoken background.

"Yeah ... actually you kind of know him," Evan admitted. "Andrew Rider."

"Your sister married a Canadian?" Piper put on an expression of horror but spoiled it by laughing. "Relax Evan – Drew mentioned it in passing the other day."

"If you already knew why'd you ask?"

"I was curious to see if you'd admit to it," Piper said unapologetically. "You're not exactly known for being Mr Open even with your friends."

"It's not about being private," Lorne explained insistently. "I was friends with Drew long before he decided he had to marry my sister. I honestly didn't think to introduce him as my brother-in-law."

"I get it," Piper smiled, letting him off the hook. "No deliberate secret keeping intended. I asked Drew to dish the gossip on you but he was pretty closed mouthed."

"That's because he knows it's a two way street," Evan shot back. "He's too smart to give me that kind of opening."

"Funny - that's exactly what he said too," Piper chuckled when Evan grimaced. She paused and then said more seriously. "Hard for her – your sister – having a husband _and_ a brother here at the same time."

"I know – but I'm guessing Drew will get to go home before we do," Evan returned.

"Probably," Piper agreed easily. She was an interesting case in Lorne's eyes ... so comfortable being far from home even though she had close family and a fiancé waiting for her back there. Lorne had thought about it and come to the conclusion that her belief in their primary goals and her desire to defend those she saw as being vulnerable – both here and back home – gave her the centre she needed. Evan had that centre too – it was what made them such a great wing leader/second combination.

"Any news from Scott and Ryan?" she asked.

The other half of their wing was out on a mission and both of them were feeling a little uneasy. The previous week a number of U.S. soldiers had been killed trying to destroy a rocket. It had happened at their demolition range rather than in battle but on top of heavy casualties the previous month it had them all feeling ... nervous. Insurgent activity had increased recently too as snow melted on the mountains making conditions easier for an enemy who specialised in ground assault. Evan wouldn't have admitted it but he'd decided to pass his off duty time as close to the hangar as he could get, even though they weren't on call, because any news would come through there first.

"No news," he reported lightly. "They'll be fine. Got lots of experience under their belts now which is why I sent them out together. They have to be able to work alone - cover things when you and I do a mission together."

"I know Ryan was pretty excited to be flying lead," Piper replied.

"He's earned it," Evan glanced at his watch, noting that they'd been gone two hours already. "Should be back soon," he said.

"Either that or they'll be refuelling midair," she pointed out.

Evan grinned. "That'll be something to talk about later – Scott complains every time they do that."

"I know," Piper laughed. "He thinks the refuelling guys have it in for him – that they keep moving the hose deliberately just before he can latch on."

"Ah, to be that young and self centred again," Lorne intoned, eyes twinkling.

They kept the light hearted chit chat going until Scott and Ryan returned, everyone doing the silent tally inside that counted another day safely negotiated.

* * *

When they got wind of a larger than usual group of al-Qaida amassing up in the mountains Command decided to respond with a combined show of force bombing run. Once they got confirmation from their forward air controllers two wings would be sent to fly over the area while a third dropped bombs to shake up the ground and hopefully the enemy hideout as well.

Pilots flew around the clock in Afghanistan – war wasn't a nine to five affair and in some respects a night mission was easier to manage due to the cover of darkness. Every pilot had to be able to do night flights – using night vision goggles and instruments and just sheer nerve to get the job done.

Confirmation came through the following day and Lorne was advised that his wing would be dropping the bombs while their second wing and a wing of Canadian aircraft did the fly over.

When Evan caught up with Drew at the mess a few hours before scheduled start everyone was talking about it.

"Back in the air together," Drew said as Evan sat down across from him. "Be just like old times."

"Yeah," Lorne nodded. "Your first night mission here isn't it?" He knew it was – the two discussed most of their missions so each was aware of the others efforts. It had been years since they'd trained together, since Drew had almost failed the F-18 course over a disastrous night flight, and Evan knew he'd conquered that demon long ago. But he also knew night flying wasn't Drew's favourite way to fly – not like it was for Lorne. Evan had felt an instant affinity with the blackness of a moonless night, a connection and an instinctive sense of where he was even without instruments to guide him.

"It is," Drew shrugged casually. "I'm okay with that – it's been a while since I flew at night but we did a few practice runs in training before they sent us over here."

"A lot of stars in the sky here," Evan offered.

"Actually, aren't there the same number of stars anywhere?" Drew chuckled when Lorne rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean," Evan shot back. "There's no reflective light from the ground to mask the stars – sometimes it feels like it's just you and the heavens, no enemies, no friend or foe."

"Sounds almost poetic," Drew looked at his friend closely. "Is that gonna be your first painting for Elaine – the night sky?"

"Nah, too hard to get the right colours, distinguish the shades of dark," Lorne replied.

"My wife will be disappointed after the effort she went to to get you that stuff if you don't send her something soon," Drew reminded him.

"I know, I know," Evan shook his head. "Does she know how ... bland it is out here? Not exactly brimming with inspirational landscape scenes begging to be painted. Besides, don't you think it's a little ...," he trailed off awkwardly.

"Embarrassing? Weird?" Drew suggested.

"I was gonna say self indulgent but those will do too," Lorne agreed lightly. "I just think it's a little inappropriate to be sitting around painting in the middle of a war zone, no matter how relaxed we've managed to get. Elaine will understand."

"If you say so," his friend returned sceptically. "Sounds more like an excuse to me though. If you can't do it just tell her."

"I can do it," Evan countered immediately. "I'm just not sure I want to ... sketching is one thing but painting ... it's hard to explain. It sucks you in, absorbs you ... splits your focus. I don't feel comfortable enough here to let that happen."

"Understandable," Drew said after thinking on Evan's words for a few moments.

"Good, then you can explain it to Elaine," Lorne said decisively. Looking down at his watch he grimaced. "I'd better get some dinner – still got the final mission briefing to run. Be back in a sec."

* * *

It was one of those rare one hundred percent 'perfect' missions – the ones where everything goes according to all the numerous and detailed plans.

They'd caught the al Qaida fighters by surprise, coming in low a few hours after dark. The ground shook with the explosive impacts of several Mach 84's hitting their mountain targets. From the air they hadn't been able to see the effect but Command let them know via radio that enemy soldiers had burst from their cave hideouts shouting, firing their weapons uselessly up into the sky.

Lorne had seen the Canadian wing in the sky in brief glimpses but once their part of the mission was done they'd travelled separate paths to return to Kandahar – less chance of ground to air anti aircraft weapons being able to take out multiple planes in one attack.

He didn't miss it this time, a familiar flash of white lighting up the darkness. It was partially hidden amidst the dense scrub low on the mountainside but at night it was impossible to completely hide any sources of light. That's why al Qaida couldn't sneak up on Kandahar after dark – because the tower crews spotted their torches immediately and took them out.

"Keep heading back to base," Lorne told the rest of his wing. "I'm just going to double back and check something out."

"I can -," Piper began.

"Not necessary Captain," Evan said decisively. "This won't take long – I'll catch up before you get even half way back to base. Take lead."

Not waiting for further protests, Lorne broke formation and swung his plane 180 degrees back towards the mountains. Taking note of longitude and latitude he dropped as low as he dared go, reducing speed to minimum. The flare of brightness was more visible to him this time and with sudden knowledge he understood what it was he was seeing.

Pulling up on the stick he shot back into the heights of the sky, turning and returning to his previous flight path. He put on the speed, catching up with Piper and the others only moments later.

"Anything?" Piper queried after he'd rejoined formation, letting her keep lead.

"Yeah, I'll tell you about it back at base," Evan promised.

He waited until they'd completed all their post flight tasks, until they'd debriefed with the mission's coordinating officer on all the particulars before raising his suspicions. Major Peter Strathalbyn oversaw all the combined military initiatives and was for all intents and purposes their commanding officer.

"Anything else?" the Major asked, getting ready to close off the debrief.

"There is one thing Sir," Lorne began. "On returning to base I noticed a flare of white light emanating from the ground. I doubled back for a closer look and saw it again." He looked at his CO intently. "It's phosphorus Sir."

"And that's important because?" the Major replied, frowning.

"Because it looked like they were testing it Sir," Lorne replied respectfully. "It's what you do when you're refining the manufacture of WP." He didn't add an explanation on why that was a problem - the Major would be well aware of the implications.

"Where was this?" Strathalbyn asked, his expression not giving Evan any clues on what he thought of the report.

Lorne gave him the coordinates, pointing them out on the map while his CO looked on intently, a discouraging frown now firmly in place.

"Let me get this straight Captain," Major Strathalbyn said in a careful tone. "During a night flight, where there was no moon, travelling at what? 300 miles per hour you were able to detect a WP test in the mountains – presumably through the trees. Is that correct?"

"It is Sir," Lorne could understand why the Major was sceptical.

"WP is illegal ... even to al Qaida," Strathalbyn said dismissively. "I'm sorry Captain but in this case I think you're mistaken in what you saw. There are pockets of resisters hidden in numerous locations – that flash could have just as easily come from one of their lights."

"Actually white phosphorus isn't illegal Sir," Lorne replied. "The Chemical Weapons Convention doesn't list WP in its schedules of banned weapons. The treaty does deal with discrete organic chemicals, organophosphates being some of them, but the al Qaida don't have to even report the manufacture of phosphate unless they produce more than 30 tonnes per year." He refrained from pointing out that people who thought it okay to engage in warfare that often resulted in harm to their own people were hardly likely to quibble over breaking a few international laws.

"While I'm impressed with your knowledge Captain it doesn't change my opinion," the Major returned. "The conditions were too challenging for you to really know what you saw and I don't have enough ground troops to spare a unit every time a pilot thinks they see something interesting on the ground."

"With all due respect Sir I _am_ sure it was a WP test, particularly because this isn't the first time I've seen evidence of it," Lorne tried to keep the frustration from leaking into his voice. "Here," he pointed to another location some distance from the first.

"Why didn't you report the other incident?" the Major asked sternly.

"Because at _that_ time I couldn't be certain Sir," Lorne admitted. "That incident along with what I observed tonight convinces me that al Qaida have either already produced weapons grade WP or are very close to doing so."

"You weren't sure before but now you are," Major Strathalbyn summarised.

"That's right Sir," Evan agreed, keeping his tone confident – no hint of personal doubt.

"Well, I'll take your report under advisement then Captain. If we have a ground unit in that area I can assure you they will check out your story," Strathalbyn's voice was abrupt and beyond dismissive now and Evan knew there was no point in arguing further.

"Thank you Sir," Lorne acknowledged. He wasn't giving up because he was sure he'd seen a WP test in progress – but for now he'd hold out following it up the line. Assuming Major Strathalbyn followed procedure, he'd table Evan's report at a higher level debrief back to the States via satellite - where some of their 'tech' experts would be present. One of them would surely recognise the truth of Evan's conclusions and then something would happen.

"What's WP?" Lieutenant Castles asked once they were dismissed from the debrief and heading back to barracks.

"White phosphorus," Evan repeated. "Been around since WWI, maybe even earlier. They use it in smoke screening, illumination and incendiary munitions. Burns easily, quickly and intensely – in an anti-personnel weapon, mixed with a little shake 'n bake it's deadly. If al Qaida are making it then you can be sure they intend to use it – which would be very bad for our guys on the ground - for _anyone_ nearby."

"Why did Major Strathalbyn think it was illegal?" Scott continued.

"I don't know," Lorne replied. "Maybe because it's more chemical than weapon, something that's frowned on pretty strongly at an international level. And if you believe the Romans chemical weapons just aren't a part of war. _Armis bella non venenis geri_," he added softly. When Castles expression turned puzzled Evan shrugged. "It means _war is fought with weapons, not with poisons_."

"How do you know all this stuff?" Ryan asked.

"Studied it – recently actually," Evan said lightly. "Military history. I'll probably forget half of it soon enough."

"You studied chemical weapons?" Scott clarified.

"That and just war in general," Lorne admitted. "Plus some geology which I would have admitted to if Major Strathalbyn had given me the chance."

"So you know what you're talking about then," Ryan concluded.

"I'd like the think so," Lorne agreed lightly. "Don't worry about it guys," he added. "I'll check back with Major Strathalbyn in a few days, see if they've done any recon in the area." Spotting Drew waiting for him outside the tent he shared Evan smiled – that saved him the trouble of looking for his friend. "I'll see you in the met briefing first thing in the morning," he told his team. "Go get some sleep."

* * *

"So you're convinced it is WP they're making?" Drew concluded after Evan had filled him in both on what he'd seen and the reaction he'd gotten from his CO.

"What else could it be?" Lorne would have liked for there to be another, less deadly reason for what he'd seen but he just couldn't come up with one.

"Hey, you're the geologist," Drew said easily. "If you say its phosphorus then I'm inclined to believe you."

"I'm not a geologist as such," Evan corrected, "which is probably half the problem. Major Strathalbyn is in command of air and ground units but his background if firmly planted on terra firma – we're a very small part of the personnel he's responsible for. He wouldn't expect us air jockeys to know anything about what goes on on the ground beyond being told where to drop our bombs. He's not going to risk his troops for something he believes is implausible."

"So what are you going to do then?" Drew queried.

"Talk to him again in a few days," Evan shrugged. The chain of command was there to protect them all and give them structure and a foundation but in a situation like this it was also the rope that tied your hands unless you wanted to risk insubordination charges.

"And when that doesn't work?" Drew persisted.

"Have a chat on the sly with our weapons specialist I guess," Lorne decided, not that keen to contemplate going over Strathalbyn's head.

"Let me know if you want me to do anything."

Nodding, grateful for another option, Lorne put the incident from his mind. If he was lucky they'd find the test site without his further input and if not, well then he'd deal with it when he had to.

**Authors Note:**

Acknowledgement to wikipedia for all the information about white phosphorus, the chemical weapons convention, etc. Oh, and "shake 'n bake" is explosives *grins* ... I liked that so much I had to use it. It's getting interesting now ... hopefully!


	8. Role reversal

**Chapter 8: Role reversal**

_May 2002_

Luck was with Lorne ... two days after he'd reported seeing that flash of white ground units were sent to help one of the outer lying villages, their route taking them directly over the low mountains and Evan's 'x marks the spot.'

The news on their return was both good and bad ... there _was_ evidence of burning in the underbrush and the signs of activity but nothing that linked it to WP. So no further action was being taken – even if they'd discovered proof that it _was_ a WP test there was nothing at the site to tell them where it was being manufactured. Without some kind of clue to the source it was nothing more than a dead end.

Evan found it frustrating to believe he was right, to understand that such a weapon in the wrong hands could cause a number of painful deaths – for their guys and for the locals. The only thing he could do was keep his eyes open every time he went out, looking for a building or some kind of facility that would be suitable for creating WP.

"So what are we looking for?" Piper was fully on board with helping Lorne prove his concerns were justified and hadn't taken notice of his insistence that she not get involved. In the end he'd decided to accept her support and the offer of a second set of eyes on the ground.

"Ah ... something pretty big for the manufacture itself," Evan returned, thinking aloud. "Depending on the source maybe signs of mining – that's if they're using phosphorite rock which is probably unlikely given its usual concentration of elemental phosphorus. It'd have to be rich in calcium phosphate to make mining it worthwhile. So, more than likely they're bringing in the calcium phosphate from outside the country."

"More than," Piper agreed blandly, amused at Lorne's 'lecturer' mode, not a side she was used to seeing. "So – what do they do to this calcium stuff to turn it into WP?"

"Heat it in a furnace with carbon and silica," Evan replied. "The phosphorus is in the vapour that produces – they'd just need phosphoric acid to collect it and something big to store it safely."

"Sounds complicated and, well, pretty scientific Evan," Piper commented, brows creased. "Are we sure the Taliban or al-Qaida have those kinds of skills?"

"If they don't it'd only take a few minutes on the internet to find out the basics," he said decisively. "There aren't too many minerals that give off the white fire I saw Piper. Magnesium maybe but that's really unstable and I can't see them being able to acquire it. Phosphates are very common – and legitimate. You've got matches, fertilisers – all things most customs officers wouldn't even blink at in small quantities."

"Okay," Piper nodded. "How big would this furnace need to be?"

"It could be any size," Lorne admitted. "Depends on how much they're processing in each batch. It'd have to be at high temperature though and that'd leave some signs on the surroundings. "

"So some kind of building and a heat signature out of place," Piper concluded. "It's not a lot to go on."

"I know," Evan grimaced. "And the heat will only be there when the furnace is actually running."

"Is there any other way for us to find where they're making this stuff?" Piper asked hopefully.

"Ah," Lorne thought for a moment, going over the various things he'd learned about phosphorite rock and more specifically WP. "It glows kind of green in the dark if it's exposed to the air, right before it self ignites ... it's highly flammable and if it combusts then there'll be a garlic smell." He shrugged when Piper's brows rose incredulously. "I _know_ – not exactly helpful but that's all I've got."

"It doesn't matter – the building and the heat thing are enough to give me something to look for," Piper rallied.

"Thanks Piper," Evan said simply.

"What for?" Piper frowned as she looked at him. "From what you've said this stuff is bad news. The sooner we find the source and alert the ground troops the better."

"It's toxic," Evan agreed. "If I hadn't seen that test flash for myself _I'd_ find it hard to believe al Qaida would go down this road, but you believe me, no questions asked. Thanks."

"You're welcome," Piper smiled slightly. "We'll fill the guys in so they know what to look for too. I know it's a long shot but hopefully we'll see something that's enough to bring in the right kind of help."

"And we'll revert to Castles and I flying together for all missions, with you and Pearce doing the other rotation – just until we either find their facility or prove me wrong," Evan decided.

Nodding, Piper grinned suddenly. "I assume you have the Canadians on side as well."

"Of course," Evan shot back. "Gotta make use of all your resources, even the unofficial ones."

* * *

It took another two weeks before they struck it lucky. Piper was the one who detected activity on the outskirts of a remote village while returning from another show of force mission. She and Lieutenant Pearce had scared off the al-Qaida unit pinning down a forward combat unit of U.S. marines, only spotting the emergence of additional enemy troops from a building built into the mountainside by accident because they were still at low altitude.

Piper had called it in immediately and those marines already on site had been sent to check it out. Piper and Ryan couldn't hang around to see what the result was, having to return to base with low fuel.

She'd only just finished filling in Lorne when Major Strathalbyn arrived at their 'ready' room, his expression having Evan straightening abruptly.

"Sir," he said, his posture at attention.

"At ease Captain," the Major replied. "Since you gave the initial report I thought you'd like to know that your suspicions appear to be accurate."

"They found the manufacturing facility," Lorne stated simply.

"From initial reports it seems so," Strathalbyn replied.

"Our response Sir?" Piper asked curiously. "Are we going to destroy it?"

"It's not going to be that simple Captain," their CO looked troubled again and Evan suspected he knew why. "Our marines were able to get out a report but the place turned out to be well guarded and we lost contact. We know the village is being controlled by al Qaida forces, and that they have a number of soldiers on the ground. The Pavehawk we sent in to assess the situation saw no trace of our missing marines."

"So we need to do search and rescue first," Lorne concluded, his mind racing. "Permission to accompany the rescue team Sir," he said decisively.

"You're a pilot Captain Lorne, not a soldier," Strathalbyn shook his head. "Leave this to the experts."

"With all due respect Sir, I _am_ trained in basic ground combat," Evan reminded him, not willing to let it go this time. "I won't slow the team down."

"Maybe not, but tell me why we'd risk one of our fighter pilots on such a mission then Captain," the Major's gaze sharpened as though he were considering Lorne as a person for the first time.

"Because they need me," Lorne said simply. "Unless you have another qualified geologist on base Sir."

"Yes, I saw that on your record Captain," Strathalbyn smiled slightly. "Something you might have told me the first time we spoke about this." When Evan looked ready to protest, the Major held up a hand. "Relax Lorne – I didn't make it easy for you to volunteer additional information."

"Thank you Sir," Lorne acknowledged.

"As it turns out we _don't_ have anyone on base with your background," the Major said. "I'd like you to brief the rescue team on what to look for."

"I don't think that will be enough," Lorne braced himself to be cut down for insubordination, speaking quickly to say his piece before that happened. "The WP is very unstable – introducing open combat inside that facility while our troops are still being held could result in them all being exposed to life threatening levels."

"You have another suggestion Captain?"

"Turn the WP against them Sir – under controlled circumstances," Lorne replied an idea already forming. "For that I'd need to be inside the facility."

"You want me to send you in there alone?" Major Strathalbyn scoffed. "You'd never get past their security. Our initial intel says the facility is very heavily guarded."

"I'm not planning on sneaking in Sir," Lorne waited for comprehension to dawn on his CO.

"I'll say this for you Captain," the Major said once he'd realised what Evan was suggesting. "You've certainly got guts."

"Comes in handy up in the air Sir," it was another subtle reminder that Lorne had actually seen battle before, had defeated enemies in dogfights under high pressure, even if he'd never confronted an enemy on the ground.

"Tell me your plan ... if I like what I hear _then_ I'll consider sending you out there," the Major made himself comfortable, listening as Evan explained.

* * *

"You're insane, you know that right?" Drew didn't waste any time in finding his brother-in-law, hunting down Evan lifting weights in the exercise area. A couple of guys were also working out but the place was as deserted as anywhere got on base.

"Piper told you?" Lorne kept up a steady rhythm. He'd had to argue hard but eventually had gotten his way - Major Strathalbyn had agreed to implement Evan's plans to rescue their missing marines and had authorised the rescue mission to go ahead.

"Yes, because she thinks you're insane too," Drew shot back.

"I know, she said so," Evan breathed evenly, lifting and lowering the bar with just enough effort to make it worthwhile. He wasn't surprised she'd gone to Drew either, thinking if anyone could talk him out of it, it would be his brother-in-law.

"Would you stop that and talk to me properly," Drew grabbed the bar on the next upward motion, holding it firmly until Evan relented and let him place it on the stand.

Sitting up, Lorne grabbed his towel and wiped his face quickly before looking up at his friend. "What do you want me to say?"

"That you'll let the experts handle this!"

"I'm the best qualified person to pull this off," Evan countered. "So for the time being that makes _me_ the expert."

"You have zero experience on the ground Evan," Drew pointed out. "And don't tell me you've trained because we both know training only gets you so far once you're in the thick of it."

"I _know_ that," Evan said insistently. "I'm not going in there as a soldier Drew ... for this plan to work I don't need to be - in fact, if I have to resort to being a soldier then it'll mean my plan's gone down the toilet completely."

"Exactly!" Drew retorted. "Do you have any idea what they're likely to do to you once you're in there?"

"Probably rough me up a little," Lorne suggested complacently. "I can handle that."

"It's not just you you're risking," Drew tried a different tact.

"You don't have to remind me of that," Evan retorted. "Why do you think I'm signing up for this? If I'd been more forceful in the first place that team wouldn't have gone in there unprepared like that. We'd have scoped out the building first and probably marked it as the next air target. Now we have our people trapped inside so that's not an option."

"It's not your fault they got captured."

"Maybe not," Evan shrugged. "All I know is I can get them out and destroy that WP before al Qaida can use it as a weapon against our troops. It's a done deal Drew, approved by my CO. I'm doing this and nothing you're gonna say will change my mind."

Drew turned away, frustrated and more worried than he could remember being for a long time. It was one thing to know your best friend was fighting a war from the cockpit of a plane they were more than capable of operating. Another to see them put themselves into an unfamiliar position they weren't qualified for.

"This will work," Evan said confidently.

"It better," Drew returned. "I don't even want to think about what I'd say to Elaine if you stuff this up and pay the ultimate price."

"I'm not gonna stuff it up!" Evan protested. "Do you think Major Strathalbyn would let me go if he thought it was too great a risk?"

"I guess not," Drew conceded.

"There you go then."

"When do you leave?" Drew asked.

"Twenty one hundred hours," Evan replied. "Cover of darkness to get me into the area. Then I just have to sit tight until day break."

"Right," Drew nodded, thinking of the various things he could say, _wanted_ to say but wouldn't because they all sounded like he thought Evan might not come back. "Be careful," he settled for the most simple of requests instead.

"Always am," Evan grinned. "I'll tell you all about it when I get back."

* * *

At twenty two hundred hours that same night Lorne found himself in the back of a Pavehawk rescue helicopter heading towards the mountains north of Kandahar. He was dressed in a mix of local and worn military attire - afghan overcloak called a chapan in muted browns and greens, old woollen beanie donated by someone back on base, standard issue boots, an old t-shirt and overshirt that had both seen better days and khaki pants traditionally worn by the marines. The identifying patches had been torn off untidily and he'd been 'dirtied' up enough to look like someone who'd been surviving alone for some time. And he was unarmed ... part of his 'cover' story when the time came.

The mission briefing for this one had been an eye opener for Evan as the SAR team leader had explained what they knew of the layout of the facility Lorne was to infiltrate, the weapons he expected the al-Qaida guarding it to have, and how he expected them to react to Evan's presence. He'd then been coached and drilled until his responses to anticipated questions came naturally. There were six men counting on him – U.S. marines – hopefully still alive and being held captive inside. Lorne was told their names – Green, Victor, Nuygen, Olsen, Tailor and Wharton – six guys it was his job to get out of there.

He'd been given very specific instructions for the first part of the mission which basically amounted to him saying nothing and doing nothing other than following in the middle of the team as they got him to where he needed to be. The trip there passed quickly, the helicopter stopping to hover low over a clearing a few miles from the village. Lorne and the team dropped to the ground and moved quickly towards the cover of low shrubbery common at the base of the mountains as the helicopter lifted back into the air and disappeared from sight.

"This way."

Evan copied his companions, ducking low and running as silently as he could. In the darkness of a half moon night it was difficult to see the ground and he stumbled a couple of times but managed to keep up until they got as close to the village as they dared.

This one was similar to many of the villages scattered around the countryside, a collection of stone buildings housing too many people, with small tracts of grazing lands carved out around them. It looked to be exactly what an observer would expect – poor, harmless, and of little strategic value. The perfect front for hiding a facility manufacturing incendiary weapons.

They stopped in a clump of trees on the outskirts, the closest suitable place for Lorne to hold out for the night.

"This is where we leave you," the team leader said in a near whisper. "Good luck Captain."

Lorne nodded, moving further into the trees as the team disappeared into the underbrush back the way they'd come. They'd be around, waiting for a signal from Evan that their help was needed, but for all intents and purposes he was on his own.

Setting his back against a tree, Evan squinted into the darkness. The nights were still cold and he shivered as the wind picked up. "What have you gotten yourself into this time," he muttered, gathering his chapan around him tightly.

* * *

The hours passed slowly ... Lorne dozed off for moments here and there but always snapped awake as the sounds of an unfamiliar night kept him alert. The ground was hard and uncomfortable and he'd lost all feeling in his ... _extremities_ before he'd been there an hour. His hands were numb with cold and he wished for nothing more than something hot that would warm him from the inside out.

When he heard footsteps in the underbrush as daylight broke he closed his eyes, carefully relaxing his body into a posture of exhausted sleep.

"آنچه را که ما در اینجا?"

Lorne couldn't translate what was said but it wasn't important – they weren't speaking English which meant they probably belonged to the village at the very least.

"آمریکا?"

Closer now. Evan held still, breathing slow and steady, as one set of footsteps approached.

"بیدار!"

The kick to his boots was forceful enough to wake even the deepest of sleepers. Opening his eyes he made a play of squinting up at his human alarm clock groggily, lurching backwards in alarm only when his eyes landed on the weapon held easily in the afghan man's hands.

"What?" Evan said, holding his hands up in a universal 'I mean no harm' gesture.

"I said _Get Up_," the man repeated in heavily accented but understandable English.

"_Thank God for that_," Evan thought, not sure what he'd have done if none of them had spoken a language he could understand. "I don't want any trouble," he whined, getting slowly to his feet.

"Then you will explain why you are here, so close to the village," the man returned, gesturing for Evan to step forward.

"There's a village nearby?" Lorne played dumb, looking around as though he expected it to just suddenly appear in front of him.

"Surely you must know this," the Afghan walked around him slowly, prodding aside his chapan and noting what Evan wore underneath, "American – _military_." The last word was spoken with a sneering condescension.

"It was dark ... I had to stop and rest," Lorne put an edge of begging into his tone.

"Where is the rest of your unit?"

"My unit," Evan scoffed bitterly. "Abandoned me, left me for dead," he swallowed hard, looking upset and then regrouped. "Fuck them – who needs them right?!"

"You are alone, wandering around ... lost?" the man asked incredulously. "من شما را باور نداشتند و"

Lorne didn't need to speak the local language to understand that the other man didn't believe his story.

"I'm not lost!" he protested, straightening and almost glaring at the Afghan. The other two men who'd kept silent obviously didn't like Lorne's posture. They both stepped forward, raising their weapons. "Hey," Lorne held up his hands again, "no need to get ansty here."

"You say you are not lost and yet you did not know of our village," the man pointed out.

"Yeah, well like I said it was dark," Evan muttered sullenly. "I knew there were people around here somewhere – I just ... I was hoping maybe one of them would help me."

"We do not find American soldiers alone without some ... purpose," Lorne wasn't surprised to hear that. "What is yours?"

"I already told you – I was abandoned by my unit a few days ago and I'm looking for someone to help me get back to base."

"You lie," the afghan looked angry now. "You are an American spy."

"While I'm admiring your ... _forest_ here it's not the kind of thing the military would send a whole unit out to see," Lorne drawled sarcastically.

In response he got a rifle butt in the gut, hard enough that it stole his breath away and had him doubled up, coughing, trying to get back some air.

"No need ... to ... get rough," he finally got out, holding his stomach and grimacing up at his new friends. "You guys will get a reward if you help me return to base ... but I'm pretty sure they deduct for damage to the merchandise."

"You have a smart mouth," the man commented. "You might come to regret that."

"Maybe," Evan dragged himself slowly back to upright.

"If you are not a spy then what are you?" his confronter assessed him with a narrowed gaze. "Deserter, perhaps?"

"My unit deserted me first!" Lorne ground out bitterly. "That hardly makes me guilty of the same offence."

"Deserter or spy," the man mused, ignoring Lorne's statements of innocence.

"Look, this is a waste of time!" Evan said impatiently. "If you're not gonna help me I'll just move along to the next village."

Turning his back on the Afghans he took two steps away from his previous position before the sound of rifles being armed froze his feet cold. Raising his hands for the third time Lorne slowly turned, quickly noting the three rifles now all pointed at him.

"You will come with us," the man announced. "We will see how much you are worth to us. بدنبال او!" he shouted, pointing at Lorne in a way that had him worried as the two goons approached.

One of the other guys held Evan still while the other one roughed him up, searching him for concealed weapons. Lorne tried to jerk away but was held tight until they let him go again with a nod to their leader that Evan was clean.

کیسه ای خود را با شتاب" the lead guy ordered next, motioning towards Evan's backpack.

"That's mine!" Lorne moved forward and was stopped again by those guns pointed at him. "Don't ...," he protested, watching helplessly as the leader smiled, taking up Lorne's bag himself and shouldering it smugly.

"Bring him," the man commanded.

"Fine," Lorne winced as the other two approached, each roughly grabbing one of his arms and dragging him forward. They tied his hands behind his back, despite his struggles to get free. "Hey – no need to get rough," he protested, digging in his heels but not getting anywhere in halting their progress. "I'm moving. I'm moving. Keep your shirt on."

He didn't make it easy – not wanting to create suspicion by not putting up any fight at all but not wanting to provoke them into hurting him too much either. The way back to the village was all uphill and the two silent Afghans took delight in dragging him fast enough to have him stumbling every few steps. When he fell over, hitting the ground painfully with one shoulder, they laughed before hauling him roughly to his feet again.

The village was deserted as they dragged him through it until they got to a small stone house, no more than a room with a roof that stood on the very edge of the mountainside. With little ceremony they threw Evan inside the structure, slamming and locking the door behind him.

Once they did he dropped the exhausted, weak posture and looked around intently.

"Phase one complete," he said with satisfaction.

**Authors Note:**

First Farsi phrase was 'What have we here?'. Second Farsi phrase was "American?" Third phrase "I do not believe you". Fourth phrase "search him!" Fifth phrase "grab his bag" from www dot stars21 dot com / translator / english_to_farsi dot html


	9. On the inside

**Chapter 9: On the inside**

_Late May 2002_

Even though Lorne had given the appearance of a disheartened soldier not paying attention, his eyes had missed nothing in the moments before his captors had imprisoned him. It was a small village – they wouldn't have too many places to hide away their captives and he was pretty sure they wouldn't risk taking them anywhere too distant. That meant there were either additional cells in the same building he was in or the six marines were being held in the manufacturing facility itself. He didn't allow himself to think about the alternative – that they weren't being held anywhere because they'd already been disposed of.

Evan had also noticed how close they were to the mountainside and he'd seen what looked like an entrance – a set of heavy doors attached to a building that literally disappeared into the rock. There were two guards standing at those doors, plus at least two others higher up the slope keeping watch. Getting in was going to be difficult without his Afghan captors voluntarily taking him inside. He'd have preferred to act immediately, to release himself and head straight for the facility but he knew that would be foolhardy and would only succeed in tipping his hand. For now they thought him nothing more than a disgruntled deserter with a grudge against his own unit. He just had to work out how to create the opportunity to capitalise on that and get them willingly taking him where he needed to go.

Scuffing a foot through the dirt on the floor, Lorne cleared a spot by the wall and sat down awkwardly, leaning his back against the wall and shifting his shoulders in a futile effort to get the restraints around his wrists feeling more comfortable. He was tired and hungry but too wired to really be feeling the effects of either. Still, he closed his eyes, relaxing his posture even as his mind continued to work rapidly.

It couldn't have been more than an hour before the lock grated, clicked and the door swung open, revealing the same Afghan who'd questioned him before.

"Listen, can we talk about getting me out of here?" Lorne pre-empted whatever it was the man was going to say to him.

Without warning a booted foot landed squarely in his side sending him pitching sideways with a pained grunt.

"I will ask the questions," the man ground out, watching dispassionately while Evan struggled to sit up again – a difficult task with his hands tied behind his back. "We will start with who you are."

"Private Harold Marks, U.S. Marine Corps, service number 2137045," Lorne snapped out crisply as though it were something he'd repeated many times in the past.

"And what was your position?" the man demanded.

"When?" Lorne asked stupidly, earning a hard slap to his right cheek this time.

"If I were to hire you for my army, what could you do for me?" the man restated his question in a slow measured voice.

"Ah ... driver I guess would be the closest," Lorne replied uncertainly.

"You are a ... _driver_?" the man asked incredulously.

"Hey, it's not just the guys with guns who fight wars," Evan said defensively. "My job is just as important – how else do you get troops from one point to another, right?"

"How indeed," the afghan muttered sarcastically. "And you are sure your people will pay for your return," he said sceptically.

"I'm _sure_, okay," Lorne insisted.

"I do not think so ... to do so would be a waste of resources," Evan's captor shook his head. "No – best we kill you now before you can waste any more of my time."

"No!" Lorne shouted, pressing his back hard against the wall and forcing himself to his feet with its support. "Maybe we can come to an arrangement. I know ... things."

"What _things_ could you, a lowly driver, possibly know that would make feeding and housing you worthwhile?"

That was said with a heavy dose of sneering but the guy hadn't left ... _yet_. Lorne swallowed hard, letting his eyes meet his captors and then looking away nervously. He licked his lips, dry after a night without water, and swallowed again. Everything about his stance screamed reluctance but with a deep breath, and obvious steeling of himself, in the eyes of the Afghan in front of him he betrayed his country in an effort to save his own hide.

"I can give you the locations of some of our bases," Evan offered in a rush.

"We already know where to find your people," the man sneered. "You make your presence too obvious."

"Helman Province, near Kajaki," Lorne shot out with obvious desperation.

This time it wasn't a slap but a fist that struck his cheekbone and grazed off his eye, immediately setting up a throbbing pain and the beginnings of a headache. He growled as though frustrated, shaking his head a couple of times and then looking up at his captor again.

"You insult me with old information," the man said. "The village was bombed by your people a week ago." Turning dismissively he walked towards the door.

Evan let him get to the point of having a hand on the doorknob before he spoke again.

"Jaghori," he said in a low tone. "Off base weapons store up in the mountains. Mostly M-16 assault rifles – favoured weapon of the corps – but there'd be a few other items valuable enough to be worth my life."

There was silence, the Afghan standing with his back to Evan. "We shall see," he said finally, turning the knob and leaving Lorne alone again.

"Yeah, we'll see all right," Lorne muttered, rolling his head and wincing at the pain that was now the right side of his face. He'd given them the information he'd been cleared to reveal ... there _had_ been an Afghan weapons cache at Jaghori, one the Afghans would find cleaned out when they went to check it out. The location was far enough away and remote enough that it would take time for anyone to get there to verify Evan's story. It bought him some time but he'd have to do whatever it was he was going to do very soon.

Before he could make any decisions the door slammed open again and his two 'friends' from that morning strode in, grabbing him unceremoniously and dragging him out.

"Guys," Evan pulled against their hold but without proper purchase on the ground and with his arms tied could do nothing more than use his weight to make their trip difficult. "Let's not be hasty here."

His heart was beating up a storm as they continued striding along silent and purposeful – for a few moments there he really did think they were going to line him up against the rocks and execute him and his mind was cycling rapidly through his limited available actions and hoping like hell that the SARs team were watching from somewhere they'd be able to intervene. Only when they approached the doors into the mountain that Lorne had seen before, the guards standing aside as they were opened from the inside, did he start to relax a little.

"Bring him," the man Lorne had decided was the leader waited for them.

Inside the facility it was cool and dimly lit – the impression he got as they hurried him forward was of narrow stone corridors that led further into the mountain. They passed a couple of closed doors before finding the one they were heading for. Again the door was opened and Lorne thrown inside a small, empty room.

"If your information proves accurate we will discuss what more you can reveal to keep you alive," the leader said from the doorway, spinning and striding away before Lorne could make any comeback.

"I'll look forward to that," Evan muttered sarcastically. Standing in the middle of his new cell, he looked around, noting the lack of windows or any other exit besides the one he'd come through. "_Phase two complete_," he thought, sliding down the wall to sit.

Rocking forward he got onto his knees, leaning unsteadily with his toes bracing his weight. Contorting himself so that he could sit within the circle of his bound hands, Lorne grimaced as the shoulder he'd fallen on earlier protested his efforts. Raising his boots and tucking his legs in tight so that his knees pressed into his chest, Evan stretched out his arms and literally forced them over his feet, the rope grinding against his skin painfully as it rotated to accommodate the new position.

Now that his hands were in front of him, he reached down, working his fingers inside his boot until he could just grab the tip of the thin knife he'd concealed there. They'd roughed him up a little when they'd searched him in the trees but because he'd been so protective of his backpack hadn't searched him again after they'd restrained him in the first cell. They'd believed what he'd wanted them to believe - that anything valuable he owned was in that backpack. The knife had been in his boot the whole time and now Evan gratefully pulled it out, carefully bracing it so that he could cut the rope between his hands.

Free, he rubbed his wrists, shaking his arms in the hopes it would ease the aches he'd acquired. Standing up, Lorne approached the door, squatting down to examine the lock. It wasn't a complex arrangement – nothing more than a simple pin tumbler lock he could have picked in his sleep. As silently as possible Evan did just that, releasing the locking mechanism with a faint click.

He froze, listening for the signs that his actions had been detected. When he was sure that wasn't the case he stood, putting an ear to the door. For sure there'd be at least one guard outside, maybe more depending on how important the head guy thought Lorne was. Lying down on the floor, Evan pressed his cheek to the cold stone, directing his gaze under the door where light from the corridor created a faint silhouette.

One set of boots, standing directly in front of the door. That was handy ... assuming more guards weren't standing further down the corridor of course.

Sitting back up, Lorne thought for a moment, trying to work it through inside his head. What would the Afghans be likely to do, given they thought him an inept deserter and with the outer doors more heavily guarded?

"_They wouldn't waste men on me_," he reasoned internally. That was enough – he had to act, had no choice because every minute he delayed was one minute closer to them finding out his information was out of date.

Carefully Evan turned the door handle, tiny movements one at a time until he'd be able to open the door fully. Still holding it closed, he took a few deep breaths to psych himself up and then slammed the door open rapidly. He felt the resistance as it made contact with the guard and powered through that, leaning all his weight against the door like a defensive guard stopping the quarterback.

The guard slammed back against the opposite corridor wall with an audible thud. Lorne didn't wait for an invitation, rushing forward and grabbing the man's gun while he was still disorientated. Slamming the butt to the back of the guards head Evan had the satisfaction of seeing him crumble to the ground. Searching him quickly, Lorne found a set of keys and a radio and pocketed both.

Getting up he dragged the guard into his now unoccupied cell, gagging the man with his own shirt and leaving him locked inside. Now armed, Lorne shouldered the rifle and ran down the corridor, heading further into the facility.

**Authors Note:**

Service numbers went out in 1972 and were replaced by social security numbers. The last ones issued to the Marine Corps were numbers 2,100,000 to 2,800,000. I have no idea on the format of ssn's in the U.S. so I decided to just have Lorne give a fake service number instead of a fake ssn number - it probably doesn't matter either way but you know me, this is the kind of thing I worry about! This information sourced from Wikipedia.


	10. In the line of duty

**Chapter 10: In the line of duty**

_Late May 2002_

The corridor ended abruptly, leading simply to another closed door. Glancing back the way he'd come Lorne put the pieces together. Assuming the room in front of him was the heart of the facility where they were making WP, the closed doors his captors had dragged him past at the start had to be where the prisoners were kept. That was a problem because he'd counted on finding the marines _before_ he set things up for their escape. He couldn't risk going back though - this might be his only chance to do part of what he'd come for; destroy the WP al-Qaida had already manufactured and make sure they couldn't make any more.

"Right," he muttered, reaching for his trusty knife again and bending to 'open' the door by inserting it in the gap and carefully forcing it past the catch.

Stepping inside he noticed immediately the drop in temperature and the sound of machinery running in the background. In front of him were a number of large circular vats - most likely made of concrete. He couldn't see their contents but the whole set up was pretty much what he'd expect for the storage of a volatile substance. Without a doubt this was where they were storing the completed product. The furnace room itself probably shared at least one wall with the exposed part of the building otherwise the heat build up would have affected their ability to keep the WP cool enough. He didn't need to see that though - everything he needed was right there, in the room.

Sitting down he quickly unlaced his boots and pulled them off, reaching inside and ripping away the inner soles. Underneath where the heels should be solid the special forces guys had concealed two small packs of shake n' bake - high explosives, complete with timed charges he'd have to detonate remotely. Putting his boots back on Evan grabbed the explosives, moving to the middle vat. Ducking low he scooted around the vessel until he found what he was looking for, a small outlet used to drain the vat for cleaning or transport. He unscrewed it slowly, watching carefully until an oily liquid began to well up over the edge of the cap he was holding. A few more revolutions and the liquid - a safe storage medium to keep the WP stable - began to gush over the cap, splashing to the floor. Stepping back, Evan assessed the height and circumference of the container, doing a rough mental calculation of the likely volume. That coupled with the rate of flow from the outlet he estimated it would be about 25 minutes before the vat was empty, assuming they'd filled it to the top. Setting the alarm on his watch - a simple model the Afghans hadn't seemed interested in taking from him - Lorne moved to the next vat, repeating the same process over again until all the outlets flowed freely. The floor under the vats was already covered with the oily liquid by the time he was done and he had to step carefully as he placed his explosives, one on the central vat and the other on the side wall. If he'd gotten his mental map right, that would be the closest point to the outside - with any luck it'd open up the side of the mountain when it went off.

"Damn," Lorne glanced at his watch, grumbling low when he saw he'd already used more than ten of his estimated twenty five minutes. Moving back to the door he stood listening for a moment and then carefully opened it. The corridor was clear which didn't surprise him. Why guard a room that led nowhere if you were confident no one could get inside your facility in the first place? Setting off at a run, Evan went back the way he'd come, passing his own room and slamming to a stop at the corner, peeking quickly around it. Pressing his back against the wall again he reached for the weapon he'd stolen from his guard, quietly checking that it was loaded. _Of course_ the leader had replaced the guards at the other doors once he'd put Evan inside his cell – and there they stood, armed and ready.

At the back of Lorne's mind the silent countdown was running and he felt the urgency of needing to do something - he literally didn't have time to muck around. "_Just like training_," he told himself, dropping to one knee and sighting his weapon. Leaning out from the corner very slowly he aimed and fired two short bursts that echoed loudly in the narrow corridor. He'd aimed to kill - the first guard dropped like a stone but the second got off a shot before he too fell to Lorne's attack. Evan grunted as that one shot found its mark, hitting his left shoulder with a force that had him slamming back against the wall before he really understood what had happened.

Dazed, he put a trembling hand to the wound and pulled it away, frowning at a palm now wet with blood. He'd never been shot before ... it was a damn sight more painful than he would have expected. And that was _with_ the adrenalin that was buzzing through his system. Shaking his head to clear his mind, Lorne leaned against the wall, pulling off his chapan and ripping away a strip. It was awkward and untidy but he managed to wrap enough layers around the area tightly enough to hopefully slow the bleeding - it'd have to do until he could get proper medical attention. The natural rush created by the need for action ... the _danger_ ... and the urgency of the moment helped dull the edges enough for Evan to be able to ignore his wound ... for the time being anyway.

Shoving off the wall Lorne stood in front of the first doorway. "Move away from the door," he yelled after knocking to get the attention of whoever was inside. Not bothering with finesse this time he stepped back and fired at the lock, disabling it beyond repair. The door swung open revealing three men – U.S. marines, dirty and tired but all grinning as they caught sight of Lorne.

"About time," one of them commented, stepping forward. "Sergeant Green," he said.

"Good to see you Sergeant. We'll do the introductions later," Lorne ground out. "For now we need to get out of here asap." Ordinarily he should have confirmed their identities but in his current condition and with the time restriction decided that was something the SAR team could do once they were clear.

Nodding, the first guy quickly liberated Lorne's victims of their weapons, keeping one and handing off the other to one of his companions. Evan carefully kept his eyes away from those Afghan guards - he had no illusions about what he'd done, and no regrets either but that didn't mean he wanted to dwell on it _or_ create any mental images he'd regret adding to the memory file. Time enough later to contemplate the different between taking a life with a bomb as opposed to taking one with a gun.

Shifting away, Lorne repeated the process of lock destruction with the other door to reveal the second half of the marine team. The men greeted each other with relieved expressions but then all turned to Evan, looking for direction.

"This way," he ordered, motioning them to follow him. He was already surprised that gunfire hadn't drawn more guards but when they got to the outer door unchallenged he suddenly realised why - the Afghan leader would have amassed his troops _outside_. The message was clear. 'You might have gotten free on the inside but there is no way you're getting out of this building alive.'

"Damn it," Evan growled. Pacing away, he thought for a moment. The SAR's team should be watching the village - they'd see the guards amassing at the door. He just needed a way to signal them to start firing - _without_ alerting the enemy that they were there. He might need that element of surprise later.

"Right, hold position here," he told the marines, handing Sergeant Green the radio he'd taken earlier. "Take this just in case," he said before turning and running back into the heart of the facility, stopping only to grab another radio from one of the downed guards.

Ten minutes left - he'd be cutting it close but they should make it. Slamming open the door to the vat room he skidded across a floor swimming in oily solution. "Great idea Evan!" he shouted, slipping and sliding to the nearest vessel and grabbing the ladder attached to the side. Half way up he stopped, wrapped his bad arm around the next rung with a growl of pain, and then reached down to take off his boot. It was slippery difficult work but finally he removed it and holding it by the laces, continued up the ladder until he reached the top and could look inside.

The situation was closer to boiling point than he'd calculated. There were only a couple of inches of oil still covering the white phosphorus - once that was gone he'd be in serious trouble. Hooking his feet into the ladder rungs he lowered himself into the vat, bending at the waist and hanging his boot down by the laces. "Come on!" he yelled when it fell just short, his voice sounding weird inside the concrete vat. Stretching as much as he could, he had to shift until he was hanging fully upside down in order to get the reach he needed. The muscles in his legs quivered and his shoulder screamed with pain as he hung on grimly. The boot dropped into the mixture, sinking slowly. Evan waited a few seconds and then carefully raised it. His stomach muscles clenching painfully as he pulled himself upwards enough to grab the top of the ladder. Then it was all about carefully manoeuvring himself back down the ladder.

Considering the stretch of oil covered floor in front of him and the likelihood that he could stay on his feet Lorne sat, pulled off his other boot and tossed it aside. Then, with a boot full of 'disaster waiting to happen' balanced carefully on his lap, Lorne scooted his way across the floor until he was clear of the oil. Jumping up he ran on stockinged feet down the corridor and back towards the front door.

"Okay," he was puffing just slightly as he stopped in front of the marines, all gathered at the door.

"What's waiting for us out there Sir?" Green asked, instinctively assuming that Lorne was a higher rank even though he wore no insignia and hadn't introduced himself.

"I'd say every al-Qaida soldier pretending to be an Afghan that was living in that village Sergeant," Evan replied distractedly, his eyes assessing the door in front of him. "You'll all need to take cover around that corner," he stated, pointing back down the corridor.

"What about you Sir?" Green persisted, motioning for the rest of his team to do what Lorne had ordered.

"I'll be right behind you as soon as I've set this up," Lorne replied, stopping to pin the other man with a look that had him nodding and doing what he was told. Alone, Evan considered the contents of his ruined boot and the door in front of him. How did you transfer toxic and highly flammable material to a solid surface without touching it when you had to be really, really quick?

Looking at the radio in his hand he shrugged. It'd have to do. Placing his boot in the middle of the door, easily at hand, Evan carefully pulled at the front of it to make sure the opening was as big as possible and then dipped the radio inside, removing it and using it to smear the white, pasty substance down the centre of the door. Again he dipped the radio, removed it and transferred the contents halfway to the floor now. Oil was running down the door and the beginning of his line of WP was already close to being exposed to the air. Hurrying now Evan chanced adding a third application, getting it almost all the way down the door. A faint trail of smoke appeared, sparked and flashed white. Pausing only to push the still mostly full boot of WP against the doors, Lorne dropped the radio, turned and sprinted down the corridor, throwing himself to the floor just as a huge flash of white fire exploded, burning intensely.

"That was close," Green reached down a hand, grabbing Lorne's injured arm as he helped him to his feet. The marine frowned when Evan groaned, his face paling through the dirt coating it. Eyes narrowing he took in his rescuer's overall condition, noting the clumsily wrapped shoulder and the fresh blood trailing down Lorne's arm. He didn't look good ... but Green already knew better than to mention it.

Evan nodded his thanks and then carefully peered around the corner to see how much damage he'd done. The door featured a large smoking hole that ended at the floor and still smoked in places. Outside the scene was one of confusion - he could see al Qaida soldiers running around yelling, bashing at their own clothes where smoking holes could just be seen. There were bodies lying on the ground too - the toxic nature of the WP wouldn't have killed that quickly so Lorne could only conclude that they'd been too close to the door and caught in the flash fire, or that the SAR's team had picked them off.

Glancing at his watch he felt his pulse quicken again. Two minutes and that was being generous. He had to blow the charges now - there was no other choice. Otherwise the WP would flare all right, but it wasn't guaranteed it would destroy the whole facility.

"Still got that radio?" Lorne asked, holding out a hand when Green nodded. Turning the dial Evan tried each successive channel, looking for the one his guys would be using. "This is Lorne, is anyone reading me? Over." He had to repeat it a few times before he got a response.

"This is Lieutenant Chang. What's your status Sir?"

"Get your men well clear of the facility Lieutenant," Lorne ordered forcefully. "We're coming out and then this place is going boom."

"Acknowledged."

Lorne turned to the six marines. "Step carefully through the door - don't touch anything. When you're clear run. Get as far away as you can and then find cover. Don't stop for anything." They all nodded, expressions grim but determined. "Go!" Lorne pushed the nearest man into action, the rest following closely behind. There was a minor bottleneck at the door as they all made it through but thankfully there didn't appear to be any enemy soldiers nearby to take advantage of that. As soon as they were clear Evan detonated the charges with the small device he'd taken from the toe of his boot before he'd discarded it. Two small explosions he wouldn't have heard from so far away were set off. The WP, exposed to the air, became unstable as expected and would even now be burning intensely. Adding in the explosives inside that fire would accelerate everything, to the point it couldn't be contained. That was the plan, anyway.

It was instantaneous - he literally hit the button and then felt an answering rumble of noise rushing up behind him.

"Crap!" Diving through the door, feeling the wood scraping his arm on the way through, Evan landed in the dirt and rolled to his feet. Sprinting across the road in front of the facility he shifted direction, heading up hill where he'd noticed a rocky outcrop before. Diving, he felt the shock wave of an explosion pushing at him, turning the dive into a gigantic leap that ended in a crash landing on solid rock. "God," he coughed, ducking his face into the dirt and covering his head as a shower of debris rained down on him.

In seconds it was over ... the noise level dropped and an eerie silence was left behind until the villages started shouting ... people were crying too but it was hard to feel guilty about that. Lorne stayed where he was for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He couldn't tell if he'd acquired any additional injuries but nowhere felt any more painful than anywhere else – apart from his head which was still ringing from the noise and the fact that he'd slammed it into the dirt when he landed. No burning though ... not that he was feeling. Luckily WP burned intensely but fast - it could burn through clothing but it usually lost its punch after a couple of layers. Evan needed to be checked out though - if left unchecked a WP burn could get nastier than third degree burns, not to mention the effect exposure could have on the liver and other internal organs.

Finally staggering to his feet, Lorne swayed for a moment, almost fell again but managed to keep it together. He'd smashed his borrowed radio on landing too and from the looks of it had ended up on the opposite side of the ridge from everyone else. Walking slowly, he headed for the trees intending to cut across and then back down again.

The boot to the stomach was an unwelcome surprise that sent him gasping back to the ground.

Looking up Evan groaned as a man stepped from behind the rocks. "You've gotta be kidding me!" Lorne complained, rolling to his feet and turning to confront the al-Qaida leader.

"Do you know what you have done?!" The man accused him angrily, fists clenched. "Months of work, money ... time ... reduced to nothing."

"I guess you shouldn't have messed with something so volatile then," Evan shrugged mildly.

"What could you know of our plans," the Afghan spat out. "You are nothing!"

"I know a lot more than you thought," Evan laughed harshly. "White phosphorus isn't banned by the Chemical Weapons Convention but it should be. Anyone who thinks to use it as a weapon should be prepared to have that turned against them."

"You planned this all along," the Afghan almost whispered, comprehension dawning sickly on his face. "And _I_ led you inside."

With a roar of insult he charged Lorne, sending them both crashing to the ground. Evan grappled with the other man but he wasn't carrying a serious injury like Lorne was and he had the strength of an almost insane anger fuelling him. Evan felt the man's fists pummelling his stomach and chest, tried to block but the blows were just coming too fast. He was sure he saw stars when the leader's fist connected forcefully with his jaw and for a few moments he spaced out.

"This is for my men," the Afghan slicing a path across his chest brought Evan back to reality in a painful rush. He bucked and growled, trying to shake his captor but it was no use.

"This is for all the trouble you have caused me," the leader continued. Expecting another slashing cut Lorne almost lost it when the man stabbed his knife down forcefully, planting it firmly in Evan's right thigh. He kept the yell of pain he wanted to voice in with difficultly, glaring up at the leader, determined not to give him the satisfaction. He could feel blood pooling now, across his chest, down his sides ... the pain was intense and he felt his vision narrowing, the edges getting fuzzy and indistinct.

"And now I will kill you," his captor declared, a pistol held high in the air.

When did _that_ happen? Lorne was confused now - he'd lost time in the fight again and found himself pinned beneath the other man, unable to even move. He watched the gun barrel descend, sure this time that it was gonna be lights out when the man suddenly stiffened. His eyes were disbelieving as he looked at Evan and then, as if in slow motion, he slowly toppled forward, landing on top of Lorne without a word.

"Aaarrrggg!" Lorne yelled in pain, cursing that the guy was a lot heavier than he looked. Struggling a little he finally managed to push the dead body off his chest, taking a deep and welcome breath than sent him into a coughing fit.

"You okay Sir?" Green moved to his side, dropping down to look at Lorne closely.

"I've been better Sergeant," Evan admitted, his voice raspy. "You wanna help me up?"

"I think it would be best if you were stretchered out Sir," Green said carefully. "Looks like you've lost a lot of blood and we really shouldn't move you with that knife where it is."

"It might be best but I walked in and I'm going to walk out again," Lorne insisted stubbornly ... some might have said stupidly.

He couldn't help the groan that escaped as he sat up, head swimming dizzily. He waited a moment and then looked down at his leg. "Oh crap," he muttered, watching the embedded knife that seemed to be throbbing in time with his heartbeat, the one that had suddenly picked up its pace again. Reaching down, Evan ripped out the knife quickly, swaying at the resurgence of pain. When a strip of fabric he could use as a field dressing appeared in his line of vision Lorne just grabbed it silently, quickly applying it and tying it off as tightly as he could stand.

Gathering his reserves, Lorne carefully got to his feet. Again he had to wait a few moments until he felt steady enough to move. Green didn't protest, just shifted to a position close enough to catch Evan if he fell. "Thanks for the assist Sergeant," Lorne said as they walked, or kind of stumble-shuffle-limped in Evan's case, past the body of the dead leader.

"You're welcome Sir," Green grinned. "Thanks for the rescue."

"No problem," Lorne returned lightly, like it had been a lazy morning's work instead of the ordeal it had turned into. The SAR's team leader met them halfway down the incline, Lieutenant Chang taking one look at Evan and moving in to assist. Lorne didn't bother protesting when the man placed an arm around his back, taking some of his weight.

"Nice explosion," Chang complimented, eyes narrowed as he watched Lorne carefully, waiting for the fall he suspected was coming.

"It _was_ pretty impressive wasn't it," Lorne chuckled, wincing as it turned into a pained cough. Recovering he grinned. "Serves them right for playing with dangerous materials."

"It does," Chang kept Lorne talking as they walked down the main road bisecting the village. There was a clearing at the end and now that the man beside him had taken out all the resistance it was safe to call in the rescue helicopter to come and get them. He was more than impressed that Lorne was even still standing ... the evidence said he'd taken a few hits, been shot, stabbed, blasted with burning shrapnel and then slammed into the dirt. "Is it all gone?"

"Yeah - I made pretty sure of that," Evan frowned when his two human crutches stopped suddenly. He'd been moving on autopilot, most of his focus on staying on his feet and not crying like a baby because his entire body hurt.

"This is where we're catching our ride Sir," Chang explained. "You can sit down now ... shouldn't be more than a few minutes until the chopper gets here."

"So it's done?" Lorne looked around, doing a count in his head. Six marines who all looked a little worse for wear but were in one piece, and four SARs team members ... and him ... all persons present and accounted for.

"It's done Sir," Chang agreed.

"Great," abruptly he sat down, the only thing stopping him from slumping sideways to the ground the fact that Sergeant Green was propping him up. "Sorry," he mumbled, swallowing sickly as a wave of dizziness washed over him.

He'd passed out before he could register the reply.

**Authors Note:**

Apologies for the extra day delay in posting this ... after too many late nights in a row I crashed early last night, not like me at all! Hope the extra wait was worth it .... and thanks again to everyone reading this.


	11. Going home

**Chapter 11: Going home**

_Late May 2002_

"How you feeling?" Drew walked into the base infirmary the next morning to see Evan sitting up, awake but still looking very tired. It wasn't Drew's first visit, just the first one Evan would actually be aware of.

"Like I've been run over by a truck," Evan winced as he shifted, putting a hand to his bandaged shoulder. His voice sounded like he'd been chewing on broken glass and he could use about a gallon of icy water, a rare commodity at Kandahar.

"Want the tally?" Drew asked lightly, sitting in the chair next to the bed.

"Sure, hit me," Evan had been awake before but hadn't really registered what they were telling him.

"Gunshot wound left shoulder, some tendon damage but you should be back to normal a few weeks after it heals, with a little PT," Drew began. He'd resorted to claiming his family connection to Evan to get a full report on his condition, never more grateful that Kandahar base had grown to the point of needing full medical facilities and personnel - without that Evan would have been emergency airlifted to the nearest hospital and his prognosis might not have been so good. "Seventy five stitches across your chest and your leg - that bastard really cut you deep - they had to give you a transfusion for that and the shoulder wound but again, you'll heal. The knife missed most of the vital stuff but you're gonna be limping around for a while yet. Smoke and dust inhalation - it'll be a couple of days before you sound completely like yourself again. Concussion – and I'm guessing a blinding headache – lucky you're so hard headed because you got yourself beat up pretty bad there. You've got an academy award winning black eye too - some other contusions but nothing that's gonna permanently mess up your pretty face." It was all scarily serious and Drew couldn't pretend he'd been worried the whole time Evan had been gone but now that he was safe and Drew could see for himself that his friend was going to be okay he could afford to joke.

"And this?" Evan held up his right arm, heavily bandaged.

"Ah yes, that," Drew shook his head. "You really are a lucky son of a bitch. That's a white phosphorus burn – not third degree thank God but bad enough because you were already wounded. The doc said you were very lucky it didn't get into your blood stream. Instead you've got a few more stitches, some burn treatments to look forward to and then you'll be right. You're gonna have some interesting scars after this is all said and done my friend."

"The door," Evan shook his head ruefully. When Drew raised an eyebrow enquiringly, he explained. "I disappeared most of the door with a little WP - had to make a hasty exit when it was still smoking and I must have scraped my arm on the way through."

"Well, the bad news is it'll be at least a month, maybe more, before they'll let you back on full active duty," Drew said seriously. "The good news is you're going home - they're shipping you out tomorrow."

"You called Elaine?" It wasn't exactly a question - Evan knew he would have. He couldn't have avoided worrying his family - as soon as they'd made the determination that he had to go home they'd have called. They didn't send their soldiers to land on anyone's doorstep without making sure they'd be expected and able to be well taken care of.

"No - I called Grace actually – Elaine's still in Los Angeles but she wasn't there when I rang. Your CO was going to make the call but I requested to do it instead," Drew explained. "I thought your Mom would prefer getting the news that you're coming home injured better from me."

"Right," Evan winced. "How'd she take it?"

"She was quiet for a few seconds and then she asked me to tell her truthfully if I thought you'd really be okay," Drew admitted. "I gave her the rundown so she knows what to expect but don't worry - I told her you'd make a full recovery. And I didn't tell her how you got injured - volunteering for a crazy mission on the ground instead of sticking to the air where you belong."

"Is this the part where you say I told you so?" Evan asked lightly.

"No, this is the bit where I tell you how proud I am of you," Drew smiled as he watched his best friend - his brother in all but blood - actually squirm in embarrassment. "You saved _six _guys Evan ... six marines who wouldn't have made it without you. To hear them tell it you wiped that whole al-Qaida cell out singlehandedly. You're a hero."

"No I'm not," Evan retorted. "I'm just a guy who had the right information to do the job. And it was the SARs team that saved all of us - I'd have been toast if they hadn't been there at the end."

"Whatever you say," Drew grinned slyly. "Rumour has it they're promoting you to Major."

"When I said all you needed was to do something to distinguish yourself this is hardly what I had in mind," Piper's voice drew Evan's attention to the doorway.

"Hey," he said, motioning her over.

"Hey - nice to see you awake," her tone was casual but Evan could see in her eyes that she'd been worried.

"Nice to be awake," he replied. "Is that true?" he asked.

"The Major thing?" Piper queried. "Yeah, that's the scuttlebutt - not from any official sources of course."

"I'll trust you to can the rumours then," Evan wasn't opposed to eventually being promoted - he hadn't studied for 18 months for nothing - but he wanted it to be for the _right_ reasons.

"Sure," Piper smiled, amused at his unerring modesty. She only refrained from teasing him about it because she could see he was in pain, despite them having him dosed up on the good stuff. It had been a shock when she'd heard how badly he'd been hurt - how far he'd taken his conviction and his sense of responsibility because he'd been the one to spot the WP test in the first place. She'd admired Evan as an officer and considered him a friend for a long time - not that she'd ever admit it to him - but after his latest efforts found herself amazed that she'd still managed to underestimate how determined he could be. The same determination that saw him already recovering much better than she'd have expected. She didn't want to see him leave .... and not because she didn't think they could do as well without him.

"I guess you know they're sending me home," Evan changed the subject gratefully, "leaves you in command of the 389, if my recommendation carries any weight."

"Thanks - we'll see if the powers that be agree," Piper grinned, ducking her head a little at the compliment. "Listen, Major Strathalbyn wants to see you before they pack you off ... if you're up to it?"

"Might as well get it over with," Evan nodded, watching as she put a hand on his arm and then turned and left to report on his status to their CO. "Everyone else was okay?" he turned back to Drew to ask.

"Surprisingly very little damage to anyone other than you," Drew replied. "The marine's are all dehydrated but other than that in very good health. No WP burns," he added before Lorne could ask.

"Good. That's good," Evan shifted, stifling a yawn.

"You look tired, I should let you get some rest."

"Nah - I can sleep on the way home," Evan countered. "It sucks that I'm going back but you're staying," he said.

"If the price for a ticket home is ending up looking like you do right now I'll pass," Drew laughed. "I don't even want to think about the tongue lashing I'd get from Elaine if I came back injured like that."

"She'd be balling all over you," Evan countered.

"Yeah, for the first five minutes," Drew agreed. "Then she'd pull herself together and remember to be angry at me."

"True," Evan grimaced. "Maybe I can sleep through that as well."

Silence fell for a few moments and then Drew let out a sigh. "You'll tell Elaine I miss her right? Every minute of every day."

"Like hell I will," Evan laughed when Drew looked insulted. "You can save that romantic stuff for your letters buddy."

"You're an ass, you know that right?" Drew grumbled.

"I'll tell her what she needs to hear," Evan grew serious, his eyes watching his friend until Drew looked up and nodded.

"Thanks."

"It won't be free buddy - when she asks you to tell her how I got injured you'll spin her whatever you have to so she believes it was just unlucky okay," Evan bartered. "I don't want her or my Mom knowing the specifics."

"I can do that," Drew agreed - he'd had no intention of telling either woman how close Evan had come to dying out there. He didn't need the full story from his friend - he'd already gotten it from Sergeant Green when he'd met the marine hovering around outside the infirmary the night before. The man had talked as he'd paced, both of them waiting for word that Evan was okay, telling Drew a story he could hardly equate with the Evan he knew. Sure, he'd always known Evan was capable and determined - smart too - Drew just hadn't expected that Evan would do so well in such a hands on combat situation.

"Captain," Major Strathalbyn stopped just inside the door, looking to both men to see if he was interrupting.

"I was just about to leave Sir," Drew said, straightening and nodding respectfully. "I'll see you later," he promised Evan before taking his leave.

"Sir," Lorne greeted the older man as he approached, instinctively straightening even in his hospital bed.

"Captain," the Major smiled. "Nice to see you looking better."

"Thank you Sir," Lorne wasn't sure what he'd expected when Piper said their CO wanted to see him - but this casual conversation hadn't been it.

"We'll need to debrief you before you leave but I've already been given most of the story from Sergeant Green and Lieutenant Chang," Strathalbyn began. "The biggest question on everyone's lips is what the hell did you do to that facility?" His eyes were actually twinkling as he waited for a reply.

"Pretty much what we planned Sir," Lorne explained. "They were taken in by the 'deserter' cover - I gave them Jaghori and the leader went for it enough to throw me in a cell inside the facility. The tools the special ops guys provided me came in handy - I went the wrong way though and ended up in the WP storage room instead of finding our missing marines."

"So you set up the malfunction anyway," the Major asked curiously.

"Had to - wasn't sure I'd get another chance," Evan admitted. "There were five vats - big ones Sir - that's a lot of WP. I started them all draining out the stabiliser, set the charges and then went back to find our guys. I eliminated two guards, freed everyone and then we approached the entrance."

"How'd you know it was guarded from the outside?"

"I didn't, not really," Evan shrugged, forgetting about his injured shoulder and wincing as the pain reminded him. "I'd had enough time with the lead al-Qaida soldier to have a fair guess though. He'd put most of his defences into ensuring that no one could get in and therefore _out_ of that place."

"So you went back for some of the phosphorus and used it to burn out the door," Strathalbyn concluded.

"Yes Sir," Evan continued his explanation. "It was the only thing I could think of - we couldn't risk using their radios to contact our SAR's team without alerting the Afghans that we had people on the outside. It worked - we got out and got clear before the facility blew." He carefully left out the part where he'd detonated while still technically being _in_ the building .... in hind sight that didn't sound like the actions of a sane and responsible officer. "Unfortunately their leader managed to get clear - he confronted me in the trees, we fought and I was pretty much losing until Sergeant Green arrived and took care of things."

"And that's it?" the Major asked, brow raised.

"That's it," Lorne agreed. "It all happened pretty fast at the end there Sir. I trust we went back and checked there's no way they can start up manufacture again?"

"We did - all you left was a smoking hole - you took out half the mountainside," Strathalbyn almost grinned as Evan's eyes widened in surprise.

"I set one of the charges on the outer wall, where I thought it would be closest to the edge of the mountain," he admitted. "I was thinking the more air the better, since that was all we needed to set the WP off."

"Well it was good thinking Captain," his CO complimented him. "I'll be writing a formal commendation to go in your record."

"Thank you Sir," Lorne said gratefully.

"You earned it - more than," Strathalbyn hesitated before speaking again. "I should have listened closer when you first raised the WP as a possibility - we'd have handled things much differently and I don't think you'd be lying there in that hospital bed if I had."

"It's okay Sir," Evan excused. "Under the same circumstances I might have doubted the information as well."

"That's very generous of you Captain," the Major returned. "That will teach me to consider every service person as an individual instead of putting them into boxes depending on what their basic role is."

"In all honesty I can't believe it myself Sir - that something I studied mostly for interest actually ended up being useful in the field," Evan offered.

"And just as well for all of us that you did," Major Strathalbyn concluded. "You concentrate on getting yourself better Captain - you'd be a valuable asset anywhere but I hope to see you back here if that's what you want as well."

"Thank you Sir," Lorne watched as the other man nodded and then left him to his thoughts. Not that he really knew how to tie up the events of the past days in his mind. There were things there he wasn't up to thinking about - resolving his part in eliminating who knew how many al-Qaida soldiers, men who'd died by his own hand. Leaving his team behind while he got an early ticket home.

Yawning widely, Evan shifted to lie back down, closing his eyes tiredly. Between one breath and the next he was asleep.

* * *

It wasn't quite right. As Lorne considered the piece in front of him he worked out the problem. The eyes - they weren't right. Dabbing his brush in the small jar of water at his side and then swirling it against the brown circle of paint, he tested the colour and then carefully dabbed it where needed. Settling back he considered the results - much better.

He was sitting on a bed in the infirmary at Ramstein Air Base in Germany waiting for his flight back to the States and had been delayed for a number of hours. And all at once he'd known what he wanted to do with that time. Rummaging through his bag had been a painful exercise but he'd eventually found what he was looking for, scrounging the jar and water from one of the nurses. Then he'd cycled through his sketchpad, looking for the right picture to use.

Rather than paint a watercolour from scratch he'd decided to adorn one of his sketches instead ... a new approach for him that would hopefully result in something special enough that Elaine would forgive him anything. The activity had absorbed him, soothed him, and reminded him anew of why he loved the practice of painting even though he hadn't taken it up as a career. Watercolours weren't his medium, he preferred acrylics and oils but for what he wanted to create this time they were perfect. It was awkward with his left arm in a sling and his right heavily bandaged but he persisted until it was done.

Deciding it was as good as he could make it, Evan packed away his supplies, got rid of the used water and then went back to waiting. The picture had dried and been carefully stowed before finally a nurse came to escort him to the plane. He'd tried to argue that he was well enough to travel without a medical chaperone but had been overruled - for some reason arriving back with someone having to hold his hand was more humiliating than turning up injured.

The flight was long and tedious and he made every effort to sleep through most of it .... difficult as it was to get comfortable, even with the pain killers he was on. And then he was home, landing and having the further indignity of riding a wheelchair to the public terminal at LAX. As soon as he spotted Elaine and his Mom none of that mattered - he was grinning as they caught sight of him, both of them rushing to meet him.

"Mom, Sis," he got up from the wheelchair and limped the few steps needed to gather them up and hug them both close, not caring that it hurt a little. All three stood in a tight circle, the two women crying. There was a hint of moisture in Evan's own eyes as he finally stepped back and looked at them.

"Oh Evan," his Mom reached up and put a hand to his bruised cheek, shaking her head as she took in his appearance. His black eye was as bad as Drew had predicted - even after a few days it was still mostly dark purple with hints of yellow and green just emerging. He had a few cuts and scrapes on his face as well and he could see his Mom carefully cataloguing each.

"I'm okay," he felt compelled to reassure her.

"You're not!" she admonished him, softening as she smiled. "But you will be now you're here for me to look after."

"I'm not a baby Mom - I can take care of myself," Evan protested.

"Of course you can dear," Grace smiled, that awful nervous feeling she'd carried inside since Drew had rung to tell her Evan was hurt finally easing. Her boy really was going to be fine. She couldn't completely relax - Drew was her boy now too and he was still over there, still risking his life to do his job - but having Evan home made it somewhat easier to bear. "Talk to your sister while I chat with the nurse," she said firmly, moving away before he could protest. No way was she going to take his word on what continuing care and medication was required.

"And with that you're reduced back to child status," Elaine murmured, taking his hand and squeezing it tightly.

"Yeah," Evan looked down at her with a sudden grin. "It's kind of nice - but don't tell her I said that."

"Wouldn't dream of it," his sister agreed. She took her own turn at looking him over, seeing for herself that he'd heal and return to being the brother she relied on to be around. It had shaken her, how much she counted on him - not to help on a daily basis but just to be there, like he was her anchor just because he was somewhere in the world being Evan Lorne. Having that threatened had unsettled her at a time when she was already struggling with the unfamiliar. "It's so good to see you," she said softly, clutching his hand even tighter.

"You too," he pulled her closer, hugging her again. When he let her go he could see that she was still struggling to reign in her emotions. "What - no reprimands that I wasn't careful like I promised?" he teased.

"Not today," Elaine grinned. "I'm saving them up for later."

"Right, well I'll look forward to that," Evan muttered. His Mom was still talking to the nurse, nodding and asking questions in a way that had him just a little worried.

"Drew?" Elaine's voice was hesitant and hopeful, that one word holding a multitude of questions.

"He's doing great," Evan said firmly. "Misses you like crazy - in fact he almost drove _me _crazy with his puppy dog pitiful-ness."

"He did not!" Elaine slapped at his hand lightly, smiling now.

"Okay, maybe not," Evan agreed. "He wouldn't admit it but I could always tell when he was thinking about you - we spent a lot of time together so I know it was pretty much all the time."

"Oh, that's so sweet!" Elaine hugged him again, only letting him go when he grumbled that she was hurting him.

"He'll be home soon," Evan pointed out.

"I know ... it's just," Elaine hesitated.

"It's just what?" Evan prompted her to continue.

"I was going to wait to tell you," Elaine looked at him and suddenly her expression was one he'd never seen before. She looked happy ... and scared ... and somehow mysterious.

"Tell me what?" he frowned.

"You're going to be an Uncle ... before Christmas according to my due date."

"Excuse me?" Evan blinked, not sure he'd understood.

"I'm pregnant Evan," Elaine repeated patiently.

"But ...," Evan trailed off, not sure he wanted to get into a mathematical discussion centred around how long Drew had been overseas.

"It happened just before Drew left," she shook her head, smiling at his confusion. "I didn't find out until recently."

"Does he know?"

"Not yet."

Evan watched as she seemed to deflate a little, that look of happiness dropping away a little.

"It's not the kind of thing you tell someone in an email," Evan understood her position immediately. Pulling her close again he pressed a kiss to her hair. "Leave it with me Sis ... I'll make a few calls, see if I can get you a direct phone call."

"Really?" Elaine perked up immediately, turning shining eyes up to her brother.

"I think I can call in a favour or two," Evan promised.

"Thank you!" Elaine pressed her face to her brother's chest, tears coming too easily. "I'm sorry," she said, sniffing them back. "I always thought getting more emotional was just a pregnancy myth."

"Apparently not," Evan got another smack on the hand for that one. "An Uncle before Christmas huh?" He couldn't have described how he felt inside at that news. His little sister was going to be mother?

"Think you're up to it?" Elaine challenged teasingly.

"I think I can handle it," Evan shot back. "Don't I get the good job? You know – take the kid out, let them eat whatever they want and then dump them back with Mom and Dad."

"You're not doing that to my child Evan," Elaine said sternly.

"Look at you, going all Mom on me!" Evan laughed, throwing his 'good' arm around her and squeezing her tight. "I'm really happy for you Sis – you and Drew. You're gonna be great parents."

"I hope so," Elaine went from happy to sad again in a moment, her thoughts clearly on her husband again.

"I have something for you," Evan offered gently.

"Did you finally paint me a watercolour?" Elaine teased, letting him distract her.

"Something like that," Evan agreed, grabbing his bag and removing the picture sealed between two pieces of cardboard. Handing it to her he added "Don't get too excited .... it's just a little something I did on the way home but I hope it was worth your efforts getting that stuff over to me."

Elaine said nothing, all her attention fixed on what he'd given her. Carefully pulling away the tape holding the card together, she lifted the top piece and then just stopped, staring. Her silence went on so long that Evan felt compelled to make excuses.

"I couldn't do a full water colour Sis - it just wasn't the right environment for it," he explained.

"_Shush_," Elaine looked at him briefly ... her eyes were brimming with tears she brushed away absently as she looked back at his work.

He'd chosen a sketch he'd done of Drew one day after they'd challenged Scott and Ryan to a volleyball rematch. Drew had played particularly well and his spirits had been high. They'd settled at a table set up for outside drinks and Lorne had taken out his sketch book. Drew had smiled and then just sat with him, watching the world - as it was on base - go by. Evan had looked around for a subject and then his eyes had returned to his friend. There had been a look in the other man's eyes – longing, with the hint of happy memories being taken out and examined - and Lorne had tried to capture that.

"Evan," she touched a finger to the pencil and watercolour image of her husband almost reverently, and then looked up at her brother. "This is ... I don't have the words. It's wonderful. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Evan smiled, accepting her one armed hug as she held her prize carefully clear.

"Mom, look what Evan did," Elaine pulled away to show Grace.

"Great, now I'm in for it," Evan muttered, knowing his Mom wouldn't rest until she had him painting in her studio at home - therapy she'd call it. He listened to them chattering over the sketch, thanking the nurse for helping him get home and then waited, watching the two of them fondly until they remembered that he was there.

"Time to go home?" Grace finally looked from Elaine to her son.

"Yeah," Evan smiled, falling into step between his family. "Let's go home."

**The End.**

**Authors Note:**

Okay, so this obviously hasn't brought the story all the way to the beginning of Forlorn Hope BUT that's because I ended up splitting one long story into smaller parts - you'll see why when I post the next part. It's mostly done too and I'll start posting in a couple of days. Thanks to those who faithfully read and reviewed each chapter of Campaign Kandahar - the support is very much appreciated. Thanks to everyone else for reading too .... if you wanted to let me know what you thought of this story, it's never too late to leave me a review!


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